In Love of Quidditch
by Secondary Luminescence
Summary: In a world where women are prohibited from flying, Harriet Potter's only dream is to play professional Quidditch. What lengths will she go to in order to achieve her dream? AU Fem!Harry, twin. Rated for swearing, minor nudity, innuendo.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This story features a Fem!Harry with a twin. Neither of them are a 'child who lived'. It is a very AU story, as evidenced by fem!harry. Inspired by murkybluematter's 'Pureblood Pretense'.

Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. Anything you recognize from cannon is hers. This disclaimer applies to all following chapters as well.

**Warnings:** Fem!Harry, mature themes. Read at your own risk.

* * *

"Dad still at work?"

Harriet Potter looked over at her twin brother, Alex, from behind the latest issue of _Goal_, her favorite Quidditch magazine. "Yeah. He's never back this early, anyways."

Alex shrugged and returned to staring out the window at the darkening sky as it cast shadows over the expansive grounds of Potter Manor.

After a few minutes, in which the only sound was the quiet rustling of pages and Alex's despondent sighs, he spoke again. "Even on our birthday?"

Harry closed the magazine and let it drop to the floor next to the couch where she sat. "Especially on our birthday. He hasn't once been here on our actual birthday - we got our gifts yesterday. Did you expect him to come home for dinner with cake and arms full of presents?" Her voice was cynical from long practice and repeated disappointments. When their mother, Lily Potter, had died from 'complications' after giving birth that not even magic could heal, James Potter had withdrawn into himself. He had literally shoved them into the arms of the house elf at Lily's bedside and spent the next week mourning in private.

Alex and Harry had grown up with no parents. Their godfather, Sirius Black, had met them only once, the day they were born, before their father had kicked him out of the house in his misery. Once Remus taught her to read, Harry had discovered that Sirius had been missing for years, an assumed casualty of the war. Their intended godmother had been recovering from delivering her own child, and the ceremony had never been completed. Harry had never found anything about Alice, not even in the newspapers she read after her father left for work. Remus Lupin had been their primary caretaker for the first five years of their life. Harry often wondered if their father had even realized that his old schoolmate was raising his children for him.

James had taken notice, however, when Remus had somehow gotten loose during the full moon the September after the twins turned five. Without pausing to reconsider, James had reset the powerful blood-wards around their home to exclude Remus from entering, including Floo-calls and owls, and instructed the house-elves to take charge of his children's education. Harry and Alex hadn't had any contact since with the man who had raised them and loved them like his own for the first five years of their lives.

After Remus had vanished from her life, Harry took to exploring the property. At first, she walked, sometimes for hours at a time. After their eighth birthday, she flew on her broom, which was a gift passed on from her brother. She herself had never received a broom from their father because it was deemed unladylike to fly. It was an unspoken law in the magical world that banned women from flying on broomstick, even just to travel. Harry couldn't imagine not flying - she felt more at home on a broomstick than she did on the ground. The air sang around her, flowing like water through her black hair and curling lovingly around her body like she imagined a mother's embrace would.

Alex was dreadfully afraid of heights, and had been since the day he had fallen from one of the large oaks on their property when he was only six. The day James had pressed the broom into his hands, the day before their eighth birthday, he had gone pale. Their father had thought it was from excitement, but Harry knew it was from fear. She had stepped forward and asked where her broom was and submitted herself to the following lecture on how ladies did not fly and most definitely did not play Quidditch. Alex had thanked her profusely afterwards, giving her the broomstick without an ounce of regret. She hadn't gone a day since without flying.

Most of the time she stayed in the large clearing just over the hill, near the small pond. Other days she would fly to the very edge of the property, close enough to the wards that she could feel them buzzing gently next to her skin. She would gaze out at the countryside surrounding them, wondering what it would be like to simply fly in a straight line until she reached civilization. She and Alex had never been beyond the wards of Potter Manor. They had been born there, and, until they were sent away to school, they would stay tucked safely behind the wards. James had never told them this, but whenever they tried to bring up the topic of going to Diagon Alley or even simply to the closest Muggle village, he just left the room. Privately, Harry and Alex had agreed that their father was so lost without their mother that he kept them as safe as possible to try and assuage his guilt.

Growing up, their only playmates had been the younger house elves. After a while, they had stopped playing with the creatures since they would purposefully lose whatever game they were playing in order to try and please their 'young mistress and young master'. Alex had taken to reading and playing chess, while Harry had started flying and exploring the large house. She read too, but not nearly as much as her brother. Then again, the books her brother read were more novels than anything, and she preferred to gain knowledge rather than waste time, so the books she read were ones he'd never dream of opening.

She knew she would get in trouble if her father ever found out about her exploring, especially the two basement levels, but the portraits on the walls never reported her, just watched silently as she crept through the numerous halls. She had found a room full of her mother's belongings, and had passed hours going through her belongings. Over the course of the two years since she'd discovered the room, Harry had read every single one of her mother's old books, many of which had hand-written notes in the margins from her school days. Without even realizing what she was doing, Harry's own handwriting began to mimic that of her mother's.

Now, Harry wished she could go back to small room, where she had been looking at the myriad photos of her mother, photos that spanned from the time when Lily was a baby until her last days of pregnancy. James wouldn't be coming back from work until late at night - ten o'clock or later. His work as an Unspeakable had consumed his life since Lily's death. Sometimes he would even stay at the Ministry overnight, trusting the house elves and the family wards to keep his children safe.

"Let's go eat," Harry said, unfolding herself from the position she had curled herself into on the couch. She reached over and grabbed Alex's hand. He allowed himself to be pulled away from the window - the sun had set, so it was no use standing there any longer. This far out in the countryside, the only light was from the stars and the moon, which hadn't fully risen yet.

"I hope the food is good," he grumbled as they passed by the numerous shelves of books that made up the Potter library. It was his favorite room in the house, but not even the calming presence of thousands upon thousands of books could soothe the discontentment he felt at their father's absence.

"It's always good," Harry said as she closed the door behind them and started down the hallway, tugging her brother after her. Even though he was older than her by exactly seventeen minutes, she often felt the elder. Alex would forget to eat if she didn't remind him. "Leena wouldn't serve it if it wasn't."

Alex sighed. "I know. I just…" He tapered off, but Harry knew what he meant. She too would have liked their father to be there when they received the school letters. Tonight, their eleventh birthday, would be the day they received their letters of acceptance from the schools they had been enrolled in. Neither of them knew where their father had arranged for them to live and learn for the next seven years, but they both assumed that they would soon be proud first-year students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"I wish he was here too," she assured her brother quietly. "I'm sure he's working on something very important."

Alex scoffed. "Of course. Like he's always working on something important on our birthday." Their father hadn't been present for any of their birthdays. This was also the day his wife had died, a minute before midnight, only ten minutes after Harry was born. She had lived just long enough to name them: Alexander James Potter and Harriet Rose Potter. Then she had lay down and died peacefully with a blissful smile on her lips. Or so Old Mathilda had said, once the twins had been old enough to ask the eldest of the family house elves questions about their mother.

Harry almost missed the door to the dining room. She shook the thoughts of her mother's death out of her head and opened the door silently. Alex wriggled his hand out of her own and walked quickly to his spot at the table, to the right of the head. Harry sat across from him. The dinner floated out through the doors leading to the kitchens. Harry ate in silence while Alex chattered on and on about the adventure novel about curse-breakers he had read recently.

"…fifty percent fatality rate! Isn't it amazing! And they get to keep a certain percentage of any treasure they discover!" Alex had recently become obsessed with curse breakers after finding out that a portion of them were essentially treasure hunters. After swallowing his bite of roast, Alex announced, "I'm going to be a curse breaker when I grow up.

"Brilliant," Harry said sarcastically. "And I'm going to play professional Quidditch."

"You don't have to be mean about it," Alex chided, frowning at her. "It's not my fault girls aren't allowed to fly."

"I know." Harry moved the potatoes on her plate around with her fork. She didn't feel much like eating. "It's just not fair that you can follow your dream and I can't." She'd wanted to play Quidditch professionally for years, ever since her first flight. Their father probably wanted to trap her inside where he could protect her, preferably until she died of old age.

Alex's eyes glinted with pity, but he didn't say anything, for which Harry was glad. She didn't think she could stand having her own twin pity her.

"You'll figure it out," he said, then shoved a large mouthful of potatoes and roast into his mouth with his typical grace. Harry looked away, appetite gone.

At that moment, Triss entered the room with a small silver platter in her hands. Two letters lay on it, sitting innocuously next to each other. Alex lay his fork down on his plate, and Harry pushed her plate away. They watched as Triss approached them, her green batlike ears twitching excitedly.

She stopped next to Harry first, holding the tray up over her head so Harry could reach the letter without having to bend over. Harry extended her hand and picked up the letter with her name on it, absently noting that she was shaking.

The letter was addressed in purple ink to Harriet Potter, Potter Manor. Turning it over, she inspected the seal. It was a simple design - a wand crossed with a winged staff and a sword, a phoenix rising above them both. The entire thing was surrounded by an ouroboros. Her heart sank. She wouldn't even be able to watch Quidditch at Asclepius Academy of Magic, located in the tiny country of Andorra. For all that it was a very prestigious international private school that she should feel very honored for being accepted into, she had hoped to attend Hogwarts. If she couldn't play Quidditch, then at least she could watch, or maybe, if luck was with her, commentate. Without opening it, she looked across the table to Alex, who had a large smile on his face.

"Where's it from?" she asked.

"Same as yours, I expect," he answered with a grin. "I can't want to see what House we're Sorted into." He looked back down at his letter and puffed up in satisfaction.

"I didn't get into Hogwarts," she said quietly. Alex nearly dropped his letter.

"Dad's separating us!" he exclaimed in horror at the prospect. "Give me that." He reached across the table and snatched it from her hands, unopened. His jaw dropped. "This is from Asclepius Academy," he breathed in awe. "They're impossible to get into!"

"I'd rather have Hogwarts," Harry grumbled. Alex heard her and stared in disbelief.

"You're mad. I would give anything to go to Asclepius. They have the best programs in Healing and Charms and - " His eyes went wide. "And Curse-Breaking." He made as if to open the letter, but Harry let out a small growl and grabbed the letter back.

"It's my letter, and I'll thank you not to open it for me," she snapped. Without hesitation, she slid her thumb under the small flap and, with a savage jerk, broke the seal. She pulled the thick parchment from inside and read it.

_ Dear Miss Potter,_

_ We have accepted your father's request and will be holding a spot_

_ for you. Please send an owl with your response at the earliest convenient_

_ time, but no later than August fifteenth. If you do decide to take the spot,_

_ please purchase the following items:_

_ One pewter cauldron, standard size two_

_ One set brass scales_

_ One telescope, silver or brass_

_ One globe of the moon_

_ One set Abernathy's Star Chart_

_ One wand_

_ Four school robes_

_ Six school uniforms_

_ One winter cloak, purple with white trim_

_ One pair of protective gloves, dragon-hide or similar_

Charms for the Beginning Sorcerer _by Ava S. G. Hannoway_

An Introduction to Transfiguration _by Pierre Beaufort_

The Secret Art of Potion Making _by R. Selwyn_

Abernathy's Encyclopedia_, Volumes I, II, IV, V, VII_

_ Students may also bring an owl OR a cat. No snakes, dogs, __rats, toads, _

_ frogs, turtles, hares, falcons, or lions._

_ Asclepius Academy has a blanket ban on all broomsticks._

_ We hope to hear from you promptly._

_ Regards,_

_ Jasper de Calderon_

_ Headmaster_

She glared at the words 'blanket ban on all broomsticks' for a few seconds before re-reading the booklist. From what she knew about Asclepius Academy from books she'd read, the first three years were basic education. Years four through seven required students to chose a career path to focus on and included a series of career-oriented classes.

Alex was all but bouncing in his seat in his impatience. "Can I see it now?" he whined, already reaching out. Harry sighed and passed it over.

"Wow," Alex said happily. "Who's this Abernathy bloke? I've never heard of him before."

"He probably writes to the specifications of the school." Harry watched as her brother examined the letter more closely. "They would pay well and it makes it easy to control what students read."

Alex didn't respond except to shoot her a quick smile. His smile turned to a frown and he looked over at her. "They don't allow any flying. I'm sorry."

"I know." She picked at a loose thread on her robes sleeve. "You'll just have to invite me to Hogwarts for Quidditch matches." She forced a smile.

To her surprise, Alex smiled back, a genuine smile. A genuine, down-right mischievous smile, one that only ever appeared when he'd come up with a fool-proof plot. "What if," he said carefully, "I didn't have to invite you to Hogwarts for Quidditch?" He ignored her confused noise and pressed on. "What if you were _already there_?"

Harry glanced around the room to make sure none of the portraits were listening. Of the three frames hanging in the room, only one was occupied. James's parents' greyhound was lounging in front of the fireplace in their portrait. Harry had always wondered why they had bothered putting the dog in, but had never dared ask her father. His parents had both been murdered by Death Eaters the year after he and Lily married.

"What do you mean?" she hissed across the table, thankful that the flower centerpiece wasn't in the way. "What are you planning?"

Alex smiled smugly and leaned forward as well. "We're going to switch spots." He looked as if he'd just won the Quidditch World Cup.

"What?" Harry was starting to worry that her brother had gone crazy.

Alex rolled his eyes and reiterated what he'd just said. "We're going to switch spots."

"I heard you the first time!" Harry snapped. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the portrait of her mother sidle into her frame. Harry immediately cleared her face of any suspicious expressions and relaxed into her chair. "What do you say we go look it up?" For a split second, Alex had a look of utter confusion on his face, but he caught on quickly.

"Of course. I know just the book we need." They stood up together, nearly mirroring each other's motions.

"You've got the letters, right?" Harry asked quietly as they walked out together as innocently as possible. She could feel her mother's eyes on her back but ignored it - even if Lily's portrait did overhear anything, she wouldn't be able to repeat it. Until their father joined her in the painting, she was mute and lacked most of her personality beyond basic knowledge of who lived in the house and who didn't belong there.

"Yeah, in my pocket." Alex reached out and linked his arm through hers. She allowed it, even if she preferred to have her arm on his.

"My room?" she asked casually as they passed a portrait of some unnamed Potter ancestor with a backdrop of the library. Alex nodded once and she wriggled her arm free to lead the way up the flights of stairs that led to her room on the fourth floor. Alex's room was directly underneath hers. It used to be next to hers, but she'd found a secret passage in her bathroom that led down to the room below. He'd moved immediately once she shared her knowledge of it, happy to be even a single floor lower.

Harry locked the door behind them and then joined her brother on her bed. He passed both letters over to her and she read his acceptance letter from Hogwarts.

_ Dear Mr. Potter,_

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at_

_ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list_

_ of all necessary books and equipment._

_ Term begins on September first. We await your owl by no later than __August _

_ tenth._

_ Yours Sincerely,_

_ Minerva McGonagall_

_ Deputy Headmistress_

Harry pulled a second parchment out of the envelope, which was addressed in green ink, and read the supply list. Three sets of plain black work robes, five school uniforms, a plain black pointed hat, a pair of dragon hide protective gloves, a brass telescope, a set of brass scales, and a black winter cloak with silver fastenings. The books were all different than the ones on her booklist. She scoffed at _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_, as she'd already read it and had come to the conclusion that it was absolute rubbish. The rest of the books were, as she'd suspected, standard. _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ was incomplete as it left out many magical creatures, but _Magical Drafts and Potions_, _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_, _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_, and _The Standard Book of Spells_ were all good for instruction. She'd read both _A History of Magic_ and _Magical Theory_, even though it had taken nearly a year to read them. She'd only done it because they were her mother's, and had small notes in the margins.

"Well?" Alex asked once he felt he'd given her enough time to think. "Will you do it?"

"Do what? You still haven't explained what it is you want to do."

"Switch with me." He gave her a look that told her, quite clearly, that she was being dense. "You go to Hogwarts. I go to Asclepius. You play Quidditch. I learn curse-breaking at the finest institute there is on the subject. Hogwarts doesn't do that, you know. I would have to spend at least two years after I graduated doing extra studying to become a curse breaker. Asclepius matriculates me with the required knowledge."

Harry hesitated before replying. As good as it sounded, there was still one flaw, and it was too large to ignore. "But I still can't play Quidditch. I'm not a boy."

Alex just grinned. "They don't know that."

Harry felt her jaw drop at the sheer audacity of what her twin was suggesting. "You mean…"

"Yes. Exactly."

"But - "

"You could do it. I know you could. You can. I know you better than you do, after all. Since I'm the smart one."

Harry went along with their long-standing joke. "Yes, and I'm the pretty one, we've established that. But how -"

"Carefully." Alex's eyebrows snapped together as he frowned. She fidgeted slightly under the intense stare. "Yes, I think…"

Nervousness bloomed in her stomach. "What?" she asked carefully, half dreading the answer.

"Well, the hair will have to go." Her hands flew to her hair, which was long enough to reach mid-way down her back when loose. Alex ignored her sudden movement and continued speaking. "And we'll have to get Dad to sign a few papers so the schools will accept the switch."

"How?" Harry whispered. She was equally as brilliant as her brother, but she'd never had the gift he did when it came to planning or plotting or strategy of any kind. Her mind worked in a logical order, not the twisting morass of tunnels that Alex seemed to have cultivated through years of chess and mystery novels.

"You can't cut your hair until we say goodbye to Dad. He'll most likely go to work after that, and Triss will be taking us to where we need to go. And we'll have to switch our supplies, but we can do that as soon as we get them."

"But I'll be buying girl supplies. What will you wear?"

"Haven't you read anything about the uniforms at Asclepius?"

"No. I read about how the curriculum is shaped. And the statistics about the school and it's graduates. Why would I care about the uniforms?"

"You can tell a lot from uniforms."

"Oh yeah?" Harry arched an eyebrow as a challenge.

Alex took the bait. "Yeah. Durmstrang's uniform is composed of fur-lined robes, so you can tell that the school is located far north where it's cold all the time."

"Mhmm. Back to Asclepius. What's so special about their uniforms?" She shifted until she found a more comfortable position on her bed, but she kept sliding towards Alex's heavier weight.

"They're the same for both genders," he declared triumphantly.

"Why would they do that?" she asked, genuinely confused. It was completely nonsensical. Every other custom and tradition in the wizarding world, and even many Muggle traditions, separated girl from boy by how they dressed. Girls wore skirts, boys wore trousers.

"The book said something about not wanting to divide the class into two entities," Alex said as he leaned back against the headboard. "It makes it less likely that girls will be harassed, or something like that. I read it a while ago, and I think Dad may have gotten rid of it. I don't think he liked that I was reading about different schools. He really wants me to go to Hogwarts."

Harry pouted. "Why doesn't he want me to go to Hogwarts too?" she whined, even though she already knew the answer. James wanted his precious daughter, the child that had inherited his wife's eyes, to receive the absolute best education possible. And Asclepius was certainly the best, recognized around the globe.

"Because you're you," Alex told her calmly, as if their father's attitude towards his daughter didn't bother him. And it most likely didn't, Harry thought to herself. Alex was perfectly happy being left alone with whatever odd book he'd picked up, without James bothering him to go fly. "Plus, if he did sign you up at Hogwarts, then you'd never have gotten this chance to go as a boy and fly. Never be able to reach your dream," he added slyly.

It was this last sentence that made Harry's decision for her. And she knew that Alex knew, and had said it on purpose to make her agree. He wanted to go to Asclepius just as much as she longed to go to Hogwarts.

"Fine," she sighed in defeat even as elation bubbled up inside and she had to repress the grin that threatened to take over her face. "But you're in charge of getting Dad to sign the papers." Alex's face fell for an infinitesimal amount of time, but a determined expression soon settled itself onto his features.

"Deal. And you're not getting out of it."

* * *

The next week was spent planning. Every day, Alex and Harry would meet in the darkest corner of the library, as far away from any portraits as possible. Plotting took up so much time that Harry didn't even get a chance to fly. She'd never gone so long without leaving the ground.

Alex took to quizzing her about inane details, covering everything from how boys act to what do to if she got hurt and was sent to the hospital wing. _Hogwarts, A History_, became a permanent resident of Harry's rooms as her brother forced her to read it over and over. Harry didn't see the point of reading it, since she was going to be going there herself, but Alex wouldn't budge on the matter.

On the morning of the eighth of August, only two days before the deadline for replying to Hogwarts, Harry was woken early in the morning by a gleeful Alex.

"I got it!" he crowed excitedly as he burst in from the bathroom. Harry rolled onto her side just in time to pull her legs out of Alex's way as he leapt onto her bed and flopped down next to her. "He signed it!"

His final declaration woke her up more effectively than a bucket of cold water. "Dad signed it?" she asked, disbelieving. She had suffered through Alex's planning sessions in silence, but had never truly believed their plan would work. It all hinged on getting their father's signature, something that she had never expected to happen.

"Yeah, here!" he shoved two slightly wrinkled pieces of parchment at her. She read through them and felt hope blossom within her. The letters explained the mistake in the enrollment of his children.

"How did you get them?" she asked breathlessly, folding the parchment meant for Hogwarts carefully and placing it on her bedside table. Alex took the one for Asclepius Academy and shoved it into his pajama pocket.

"I caught him just as he was about to leave," he said, a triumphant grin on his face. "Told him the schools had made a mistake and sent us the wrong letters. Then I told him we'd written up responses explaining the mistake, and all he had to do was sign them. And he did!"

Harry gaped at her brother. "But - that's so simple!" She never would have expected her father to fall for something like that. He was an Unspeakable, for Merlin's sake! Wouldn't he have seen through it?

"It's all about timing," Alex explained in a self-satisfied manner. "We both know how eager he is to get to work, and we haven't seen him since before our birthday, so it was easy to get him. He's always in a rush at the beginning of a new project." A smug smile spread across his face. "And once we owl them, it'll be too late."

They stared at each other, awed by their own daring and cunning. Although, if Harry was being fair, it was mainly Alex being daring and cunning. She would have whined and raged and complained, but she knew she would have gone to Asclepius as her father had decided. Alex, on the other hand, knew what he wanted and fought tooth and nail to get it. "Let's go mail them, then," Harry suggested. It was her turn to be daring.

Neither of them bothered to get changed - after all, the only other beings in the manor were house elves. They raced up to the small chamber on the fifth floor where the owls lived. Together, they stood at the window and watched as the two owls winged their way from the manor, one to the north and the other to the east. Once the owls had vanished from sight, Harry turned to watch her brother. Excitement blazed across Alex's face, undiminished by the doubt and worry over the possible failure of their plan and the consequences it might yield.

* * *

Two days later, Alex and Harry were up by six o'clock and waiting for their father in the dining room.

"How much longer, do you think?" Alex asked impatiently, shifting from foot to foot.

"He'll be here soon," Harry soothed her brother. He was always impatient and overly eager and barreled into things with unequaled enthusiasm. The only exception was when he was planning a prank; then, Alex could wait for weeks at a time to find the perfect moment. Harry was nearly the opposite - she thought things through before acting. Quidditch didn't count; she acted on pure instinct when flying, no thinking or rash behavior involved.

A large yawn took her over and she leaned against the wall. Alex followed suit, folding his arms over his chest. Before he could open his mouth to complain again, the door opened quietly and a tall, bespectacled man slid through the small opening. His hair, the same raven black as Harry's own, was neatly trimmed yet wild at the same time, defying all logic and any application of hair crème. His eyes, a hazel that contained more brown then Alex's, took in their appearances.

"Good morning," James Potter said to his children, approaching them, his dark blue robes fluttering with his motion.

"Hi Dad," Harry said, hugging him as he kissed her forehead. After a moment's hesitation, his strong arms wrapped around her and she relaxed into his hold. It had been too long since she had been hugged by her father. With a small giggle that he would no doubt deny at a later time, Alex flung himself into the hug, squirming under James's arm until he was squashed against Harry's side. Even though they weren't particularly close with their father, they loved him. He was all the family they had.

"Are you two ready to go?" James asked after extracting himself from their hug and resettling his glasses on his nose. Harry unconsciously imitated him and pushed her own rectangular lenses up the bridge of her nose.

"YES!" Alex yelled, earning a reprimanding look from their father that was tempered by the indulgent smile he gave them.

"Now, before we leave, I have some rules." Alex groaned, but Harry leaned forward. The faster they shut up and listened, the faster they would leave. And she had wanted to see what lay beyond the wards for as long as she could remember. "First of all, you will stay close to me at all times. Harriet will be on my left and Alexander will stay on my right." When Alex made to object, James added in a tone that brooked no argument, "If necessary I will hold your hands." Alex flushed and closed his mouth with a snap. "Second, if there appears to be any trouble, you will use your emergency portkeys at once." Both Alex and Harry nodded solemnly. Every year on the first of February, their father gave them new emergency portkeys that would taken them to an undisclosed location until either their father or Tiber, the head house-elf, came to gather them. Every year, they received a lecture on the importance of using the portkey, and the consequences that would befall them if they triggered it for fun.

"You don't - expect trouble, do you?" Harry asked as she fingered the silver barrette she'd been wearing since February first. James smiled gently and knelt so she had to look down to meet his eyes.

"You know how Voldemort hasn't been sighted for nearly six years now, and how we think he's dead." Harry nodded, and the rustling of fabric next to her told her that Alex had too. "Well, not all of the Death Eaters have been caught yet. They've been hunting down members of the Order and attacking them in hopes of getting information on their master." James had told the two of them about the Order of the Phoenix on their tenth birthday. Their father was a member, but contributed mainly in the passing of information about the Ministry, downright refusing to fight as he had when he'd been an Auror, back when their mother was alive.

"They've been acting up lately, getting more reckless. That's part of the reason why we're going so early." James turned and stared at Alex. "That's the reason you cannot leave my side, no matter how tempting. Even in the stores, you must not wander."

"Yes Father," they chorused.

"Good." James stood up and pulled the two of them closer, one arm over each of their shoulders. He steered them to the fireplace in silence. With a flick of his wand, the logs burst into flame. "I'll go first. Wait ten seconds, and then come through together."

Without waiting for confirmation, knowing that they'd follow his orders, James took a pinch of sparkling green powder from the marble bowl on the mantle and threw it onto the orange flames. As soon as the orange shifted to green, he stepped in a said calmly, "Leaky Cauldron." Harry and Alex watched as their father spun out of view.

With nearly identical grins of excitement that were only partially subdued by their father's seriousness, they moved closer to the fire, ignoring the heat. Harry beat her brother to the powder and threw the large pinch into the fire. She and Alex clasped hands and stepped in. "Leaky Cauldron!" they shouted together. Their dining room whooshed out of view, and Harry closed her eyes to try and lessen the nausea brought on by the spinning of Floo travel. After what felt like much too long, she felt herself slowing. Alex's grip on her hand tightened until it was nearly painful as he dragged her out of an unevenly paved hearth.

Harry opened her eyes, only to find she couldn't see. Her glasses were completely covered with what a combination of soot and ash. Just as she reached up to remove them and clean them on her black robes, she heard her father's voice. "Tergeo." In an instant, her glasses were cleaner than they'd been before she had stepped into the fireplace at home. Now able to see, she took the chance to stare at the room they'd come into.

The Leaky Cauldron was a pub - that much was obvious. A few scruffy men sat at a table with a deck of cards and stacks of silver sickles and bronze knuts. A couple of gold galleons glinted in the lamplight as well, though not very many. All five of the men were asleep, likely drunk judging from the empty bottles scattered around them on the floor. The only other person in the pub was a bald, hunch-backed man behind the counter. He glanced up from the Daily Prophet in his hands and nodded once to their father before returning to the news.

"Come on," James said quietly to Harry and Alex. They fell into place at his sides. He led them through a wooden door to a small bricked-in courtyard. Before Harry could ask why they were there, James pulled out his wand and tapped several different bricks with it. Harry stared unabashedly at the wall as the bricks her father had tapped quivered for a moment, and then, with a grinding noise that felt much too loud in the quiet that surrounded them, spun and folded into their neighbors to form an elegant archway.

Harry wouldn't have moved if not for James, who placed a hand protectively on her shoulder and steered her through the archway into the cobbled street beyond. She couldn't decide where to look - there were so many things she'd never seen before and had dreamed about seeing since she'd first heard of Diagon Alley from Remus. The winding street was nearly empty. Only a few early-morning shoppers darted from store to store, and she couldn't see any other children.

"Ollivander's first," James said softly as they skirted a potbellied man setting up a display of cauldrons outside his shop. "He opens the earliest."

Harry snapped her gaze away from Quality Quidditch Supplies with difficulty and tried to remember the location of all the stores, in case she got a chance to come to Diagon Alley again. They passed by many stores, very few of which were open. Flourish and Blotts was next to Quality Quidditch Supplies, then Eyelop's Owl Emporium. And across the street was an apothecary and Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, and Florean Fortesque's Ice-Cream Parlour next to Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. And then there was a second-hand shop and a small café and a stationer's. Squeezed in between the large shops were small businesses, like a specialty jeweler and a store called Obscurus Books. A joke shop called Gambol and Japes, and a third book store, Whizz Hard Books, stood like tall and skinny sentinels on either side of the squat building that housed the Magical Menagerie. Sandwiched between The Junk Shop and Twilfit and Tattings was the narrow building that housed the Daily Prophet. Alone of the shops in it's surrounding area, the tall building was lit up and bustling.

James pulled Alex closer as they passed a dark archway between Second Hand Robes and Obscurus Books with a half-rotted sign that read Knockturn Alley. Harry had the ominous feeling that some people who went through that dark portal never returned. Near the very end of Diagon Alley, only a few stores from the tall stone wall that marked the division between muggle London, James came to a halt. Harry stared at the shop in front of them. In peeling gold paint, a sign declared the store to be Ollivander's: Maker of Fine Wands Est. 382 BC. The windows were dark, but the sign on the door was turned to 'open'. James pushed Harry and Alex forward, and the three of them entered the shop, which smelled distinctly of dust and wood polish.

"Ring the bell," James whispered to them. Alex reached out, his hand appearing to glow white in the dim lighting of the shop, and tapped the bell on the counter. It chimed sweetly but loudly, and Harry could have sworn she heard something rustling in response to the note.

"Ah, yes." Harry and Alex jumped in surprise at the voice that came from an aisle to their left. The old man who appeared had a ghost-like quality about him. It could have been because everything about him was pale and washed-out - his hair was white and ethereal, his skin was white and wrinkled, and his eyes were the palest blue Harry had ever seen, so pale that they appeared white. "I was wondering when you two would be coming in. I still remember the day your parents came in." His eyes focused on James, who passed his wand over without hesitation. Harry had to stop herself from gaping - their father never let anyone else so much as touch his wand. The one time Alex had gotten hold of it, James had confined him to his room for two weeks.

Mr. Ollivander, for who else could he be, accepted James's wand and ran his long nimble fingers over it. "Yes, yes. In good condition. You treat it regularly?" he asked as he handed it back to their father.

"For work," James answered, placing the wand in his wrist-holster. "But we're here for Harriet and Alexander, not me and not my wife." The pale eyes blinked once and then turned to Harry, inspecting her from head to toe before moving to Alex.

"Oldest first, I think," Mr. Ollivander declared softly. A measuring tape flew over from behind the desk and started measuring. Harry watched it as it took measurements of Alex's right arm from shoulder to wrist, elbow to finger-tip, wrist to finger-tip, wrist to knuckles, thumb-length. By the time Mr. Ollivander returned with a stack of five boxes, the measuring tape was measuring between his nostrils.

"That's enough," he commanded, and the tape coiled itself up and fell to the ground with a small thump. "Here you go, beech and unicorn-tail hair, eleven and three-quarters inches, bendy." He pressed the thin stick of wood into Alex's hand. Alex stared down at it and raised it to give it a wave, but before it got to shoulder height, Mr. Ollivander had snatched it from his hand, crying, "No, no, all wrong!"

The wand was placed back in it's box and the next shoved into Alex's waiting hand. "Try this, more like your father's, oak and dragon heart-string, ten and half inches, hard." Alex grinned and flicked the wand at the desk. A small glass paperweight exploded, shards flying outwards before being halted by a shield cast by James. Harry's eyes flew to Mr. Ollivander, expecting him to be angry, but instead he was smiling. "Closer, closer," he muttered, grabbing the wand and replacing it in its box. "I know just the one, very unusual, very rare combination…"

He bustled away down an aisle, lost in the shadows that grew more pronounced as the post-dawn sun rose higher in the sky. Mr. Ollivander came back with a slender box clutched in his hands. With quick, effective motions, he opened the box and pulled a wand so pale it looked white out of it's wrappings. "Willow with dragon heart-string, eleven and a half inches, springy. A mixture of your father's and your mother's wands," he added quietly as he passed the wand to Alex, who took it almost reverently. As soon as it touched his skin, the wand spat out a shower of purple and silver sparks and a blissful smile crossed his face.

"This one," he said, hand clenched around the wand. "This is mine."

"Indeed," Mr. Ollivander agreed, already turning towards Harry, who took a nervous step back. "Come now, nothing to be frightened of, I'm sure we have your match here." Harry, embarrassed at showing her nerves, stepped towards Mr. Ollivander.

"Excellent, let's get you measured up." At the last two words, the measuring tape, which lay at Alex's feet, zoomed towards Harry. She ignored it and watched as the wandmaker opened one of the boxes Alex hadn't tried. Harry snapped, "That's enough," at the measuring tape once it started to move towards her face. It coiled up and fell to the ground. Mr. Ollivander chuckled as he passed the wand over. "Ebony and unicorn hair. Give it a wave."

Obediently, Harry flicked the wand, but nothing happened. Mr. Ollivander frowned. He passed a second wand to her, taking the first back. "Redwood and phoenix feather." She waved it without waiting for a prompt. Once again, nothing happened. Mr. Ollivander gave a tight smile as he took it back. "You're one of those," he said mysteriously.

"One of what?" Alex asked from next to James. They had moved to the door and were leaning on either side of it like guards.

Mr. Ollivander didn't answer until he had plucked an armful of boxes from the shelves and returned. "Difficult customer," he answered with a satisfied smile as he passed another wand to Harry, snatching it back almost immediately. The process of handing an wand to Harry and taking it back after a few seconds repeated over and over as he talked. "The wands all responded to small degrees with you, Mr. Potter, as they do with most young witches and wizards. Miss Potter, here, is more particular. The wands respond, but the responses don't tell me anything about what will make the best combination for her."

They had run out of wands, so Mr. Ollivander took out his wand and summoned some more. Harry stared in amazement as what had to be a hundred boxes stacked themselves neatly at Mr. Ollivander's side. He didn't look bothered at all. In fact, a pleased smile was stretching across his wizened features as she tried more and more wands. She heard Alex complain under his breath as he moved and sat down in the spindly chair in the corner.

"What's the most someone's tried?" Harry asked as Mr. Ollivander summoned another batch of wands.

"The entire shop," he said with a maniacal glint in his eyes. "But that was back when the shop only held about a thousand wands. I have increased the stock since then." Harry swallowed nervously. What if she didn't find a wand? Mr. Ollivander seemed to have read her thoughts. "A wand will choose you, not to worry." She nodded and gingerly took the proffered wand. It was plucked from her fingers a moment later. She waited, but Mr. Ollivander didn't offer her another one. A pensive look had taken over his features.

"I wonder…" Without another word, he spun and rushed through the doorway behind the counter. He reappeared a minute later, a dusty box clutched in his hands. "Try this," he said as he lovingly pulled a wand out of the box. "Another rare combination, like your brother's." Harry stretched out her hand and took it. A pulse of warmth rushed down her arm from where her skin made contact with the wand. Tingles spread more slowly, and a euphoric feeling of contentment spread through her. She waved her wand, for it was her wand, almost lazily. Gold and blue confetti burst from the tip and floated to the ground.

"What is it?" she asked as she tucked the wand into her robe pocket.

Mr. Ollivander stared at her with an unreadable expression on his face before answering. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." Harry stroked the wand in her pocket.

"Thank you," she said with a slight smile to the old man. He bowed in return and, after waving his wand to return all the boxes to their shelves, moved to the counter to ring up the purchase.

James stepped forward, pulling a coin pouch from his pocket. "Can I see?" Alex asked as she leaned against the wall next to him. Trying wands took more energy than she had expected.

"Only if I can see yours," she answered, pulling her wand out of her pocket. They swapped wands. Her brother's wand wasn't anything like her own, and didn't feel any different than any twig she could pick up off the ground. She shrugged and held it out to Alex.

"Here." Alex thrust her wand at her and took it. Harry pocketed her own, making sure it wouldn't fall out.

"Ready to go?" James asked, tucking his coin purse back into his robes as he approached them. Harry glanced out the window - the sun was fully risen now, and the alley was beginning to get busy.

"Yeah!" Alex said happily, moving to his spot at their father's right side. Harry followed suit and situated herself on James's left.

"Bookstore?" she asked as they exited Ollivander's.

Alex caught her meaningful glance behind James's back and nodded. "And then can we go to Quality Quidditch Supplies?"

James nodded absently, a small frown on his face as he watched the crowds of shoppers in the alley. "After we've got everything, we'll see if we have time. I need to be at the office by one." Harry grinned at Alex, who grinned right back. He would tell her what book he wanted at the bookstore, and then he would try and finagle their father into buying a better broom, or at the very least some polish and twig clippers for the old one.

The next store they went into was the larger of the two apothecaries. Both Alex and Harry needed full starter kits, as well as silver knives and glass stirring rods and other preparatory instruments. James refused to let them pick the pattern out themselves, and ordered the entire set with their initials imprinted onto every item. Including the jars and containers for each ingredient.

As James paid the grumpy owner, Alex and Harry held a hurried conversation.

"What will we do if he puts our initials into everything?" Harry whispered. "It's not like we can go to school with each other's initials on everything!"

Alex was infuriatingly calm. "Look, it's not a big deal. Just say that our father got mixed up in the orders. And the potions supplies are the same for both schools."

"Not the globe of the moon or the star charts!" Harry hissed. "And what about when we get older, hm? How are we going to get robes then!? We won't stay the same size forever, you know."

"Sweet Circe, will you just calm down!" Alex put a hand on her elbow, glancing over to the counter where, thankfully, James was arguing with the owner. "Look, 'once we get older' is a long ways from now. We'll probably not need new robes for at least two years and by then Dad'll have to let us come to Diagon Alley by ourselves - "

"Fat chance," Harry muttered, but Alex kept on going as if he hadn't heard her.

" - and if we have to we can order stuff by owl."

"And that won't be suspicious at all, packages arriving for us at all hours."

"Dad's never home. You know that as well as I do." Harry glared at her brother, who smiled winsomely back at her. Finally, she gave up.

"Fine. You keep acting like nothing will go wrong, and I'll stay in reality." He gave a quiet laugh and hugged her, just as James came over with the sales slip in his hands.

"Let's go," he said as he put the slip into the coin purse and slid it back into his pocket.

"Where to?" Harry asked immediately. James had spent quite a long time arguing with the apothecary owner, and she was starting to worry that they wouldn't have time to get to Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"Cauldrons first, then robes. Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, and then Flourish and Blotts last."

"Quidditch last," Alex corrected. James gave him a small smile.

"Very well. But only - "

" - if there's time," Harry and Alex chorused together dully. It was their least favorite phrase, and the one that most often came from their father's mouth, usually while he had one foot in the fireplace.

Harry and Alex rushed through the cauldrons and tapped their feet while Madam Malkin and her assistant bustled around them as they stood on stools and were measured for robes. They fidgeted non-stop while their uniforms were being hemmed in and let down. Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment was only a blurred memory as they each bought brass scales and a brass telescope, and Harry picked up a globe of the moon and the requisite star charts. She was slightly jealous that Alex would get them, as the globe was quite pretty and the charts would mean that she'd never have to take Astronomy. Then Alex, quietly, pointed out that he'd be studying the subject on his own, without a professor, and would have to take the equivalent of the O.W.L. exam and was expected to pass. After that Harry kept her mouth shut.

Finally, they were at Flourish and Blotts. Harry sped towards the encyclopedia section and pulled the five volumes of _Abernathy's Encyclopedia_ that the booklist said she needed. _Charms for the Beginning Sorcerer_, _An Introduction to Transfiguration_, and _The Secret Art of Potion Making_ were piled on top, and she lugged the books to James.

"Dad, will you hold these?" she asked from behind the stack. Her answer came when strong arms lifted the books from her. "And can I go find a book to read? Just for fun?" When James looked about to say no, she used her trump card. "Since we're going to the Quidditch store for Alex?" She looked up at him, widening her green eyes behind her rectangular glasses.

Sure enough, James's face lost the stern lines as he sighed. "All right. Just make it fast."

Harry hugged her father, nearly bashing her head on the corner of one of the books she'd just given him, and took off back into the shelves of books. She made a beeline towards the Arithmancy section. It was a topic her father would approve of, if just barely, for his daughter to read. It was also a subject that Alex would need to become a curse-breaker, and he wanted to get started as soon as possible. She plucked a book titled _The Power of Numbers_ from the shelf and flipped through it, not really knowing what she was looking for. Arithmancy was one of the few subjects that truly didn't interest her. She might have to end up taking it, though, just in case James decided to ask them about school.

When she got back to where she'd left James, Alex was waiting next to him. "Done?" he asked with a fake scowl on his face. His eyes were glued to the book in her arms.

"Yes. But Quidditch doesn't matter, anyways." Her throat nearly closed off as she forced the lie from her mouth. Alex had to suppress his smirk at the expression on her face, but James didn't seem to notice.

"What did you select?" he asked as the three of them took their place in the line to check out.

"_The Power of Numbers_," Harry answered, summoning as enthusiastic a tone as possible. "I was reading about Asclepius Academy and saw that they offer Arithmancy as a class after second year, and the description was just so interesting that I couldn't help but - "

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Alex interrupted, to Harry's relief. She didn't know how long she could pretend to be enthusiastic about what was essentially very advanced math. "It's our turn."

As they checked out, Harry watched a large family of red-heads come in and split up. The youngest boy, who looked to be about her own age, made his way to the 'Used' bin and started rummaging through it. He was quickly joined by a pair of twins, who were identical down to the last freckle (and they had a lot). A smug looking boy with a shiny badge on his shirt was in the Transfiguration section, a small girl tagging after him. The red-haired parents separated, the mother following the twins and the small boy, and the father going after the older one and the girl until a book distracted him.

Harry felt jealousy seeping through her as she watched the happy family. Lots of siblings, a loving mother, a father who paid attention, and, from their familiarity with the layout of the shop, allowed to go outside their property. Everything she didn't have, and likely never would.

Tugging on her arm brought her out of her funk. "C'mon, Harry." It was Alex, his face worried as he peered at her. _That's one thing I wouldn't have_, she thought to herself as she smiled at him and allowed herself to be pulled out of the store. _I wouldn't have Alex, and I wouldn't have been allowed to play Quidditch_. The smile became genuine as their father made a path through the now-crowded street with just his presence.

With a rush of excitement, she remembered where they were going. As they drew closer and closer to Quality Quidditch Supplies, the crowd became even thicker. The window of the store told her why. A beautiful broomstick was on display, and children of all ages were clustered around it, taking excitedly.

"- best on the market!"

" - outdone themselves with the - "

" - naught to eighty in - "

"Mum won't let me - "

Harry wasn't aware that she had stopped moving until Alex prodded her in the back and hissed at her to shut her mouth or she'd be catching pixies. With a shake of her head, she scurried to catch up with their father, who had just reached the door. The inside of Quality Quidditch Supplies was just as crowded at the outside. People milled about, mostly just looking at the expensive brooms and the top-of-the-line equipment.

"Dad, can I get a new broom?" Alex asked as they pressed past a burly brown-haired teenager. Harry missed James's answer as the boy stepped back into her and she stumbled to the side, narrowly missing running into a dangerous looking teenager.

"Ah, sorry!" A hand clasped her forearm and steadied her. She looked up at the older boy, taking in the messy brown hair, light-brown eyes that were almost hazel, and sun-tanned skin. He was quite obviously a Quidditch player, as his firm grip could attest to. Harry made sure her bangs were in her eyes - if he went to Hogwarts and recognized her…

"It's all right," she said, straightening up. "It's as crowded as a bag of kneazles in here."

The boy's eyes were wide as he stared at her in shock. "You're a girl," he said blankly. He still hadn't let go of her arm.

"I know."

"What are you doing in here?" he asked pulling her into a corner that was mostly protected from the crowds by a manikin wearing the newest in Quidditch protection pads. "Girls aren't allowed to play Quidditch."

She scowled. He still hadn't let go of her arm. "And you think I don't know that?" she snapped. "I'm here with my brother. So let me go." His hand sprang off her as if he had been burned. She turned and flounced off, making sure to flip her hair over her shoulder at him. _Stupid segregation rules_, she thought venomously as she squeezed between a tower of Quaffles and the same pair of twins that had been in Flourish and Blotts only minutes before. The rest of their family was nowhere in sight, and she smirked at them as she passed. They had the right idea, ditching their parents to go to a Quidditch store.

To her surprise, they smirked right back, and one of them winked at her. Harry nearly paused to talk to them about Quidditch, but thought better of it. Girls, as the brown-haired boy had said so eloquently, weren't allowed to play Quidditch.

"Harriet Potter, please come to the front counter." Harry flushed as a loud voice boomed through the store. Her father had noticed she was missing, finally. The rest of the store froze in place for a second after the announcement, then went back to their conversations. Harry wound her way to the counter, passing by group of boys after group of boys. As she reached her father and Alex, she realized that she was the only girl in the store.

"Where were you?" James growled, his eyes flashing over the crowded store. "Did someone try to take you?"

"Honestly, Dad, why would someone want to take me? Everyone in here is so caught up in the merchandise that they wouldn't notice a girl unless they ran over her." Which, incidentally, was true, mostly. When James's scowl deepened, she sighed and said quietly, "Someone accidentally knocked me over and then was all surprised that I was girl and insisted on asking if I was a girl." She snorted. "As if the skirt wasn't indication enough."

Alex grinned good-naturedly and flashed a small leather bag in her direction. She tore her gaze away and looked back at her father. "Really, Dad, I'm okay. Can we go home now?" The words seemed to melt any worry or anger right out of him, and he placed a protective hand on her shoulder.

"Follow me, Alexander," he said as he steered her to the doorway. In the street, once they had gotten out of the crowd of boys around the Quidditch store, James relaxed his grip and Harry fell back to walk with Alex.

"What is it?" she whispered as she reached out a hand and stroked the leather.

"Servicing kit," Alex whispered back. "Tell you more once we get back home." Harry nodded and concentrated on following their father.

A few feet from the archway that led to the Leaky Cauldron, the three of them were waylaid by the red-haired family, or most of it. Harry was amused when she saw that the twins were still missing.

"James, have you seen the twins?" the woman asked. She was holding the hands of the younger boy and the girl, and the father and the older boy were standing behind them, searching the street.

"No, I've been busy with my own, Molly," James said coolly. Harry was surprised that they even knew each other. The woman didn't look like she worked, let alone as an Unspeakable. She wondered where they had met.

"Oh, those two!" The woman, Molly, scowled. "When I get my hands on them…"

"Come now, Molly, I'm sure they're perfectly fine," her husband soothed her.

"They should know better than to try that," the older boy proclaimed. "After all, now that I'm Prefect they'll have to stop breaking rules." He puffed his chest out importantly. Harry hid behind her father's back. If the boy was a Prefect, he went to Hogwarts. She couldn't be recognized.

"Give it a break, Perce," the girl retorted. "They don't stop for anyone." All three of the red-haired children started bickering, the two younger teaming up on the older. James ignored them and moved past the red-haired family with a polite nod to both the parents. Harry and Alex followed close behind him, nearly stepping on his long robes.

The Leaky Cauldron was very busy with patrons eating lunch. A grimy grandfather clock told her that it was twelve thirty. No wonder James had hurried them along - it was nearly time for him to get to work.

"You first, Alexander," James said as they stopped beside the fireplace and flipped a sickle to the barkeep as payment for letting them use his Floo. Alex stepped forward, the broom servicing kit still in his hands. "And take this." James handed Alex's cauldron, which had been shrunk to the size of an apple, over. "Your books and robes are in it as well." Alex nodded and shot Harry a smug smile before stepping into the fireplace and shouting, "Potter Manor!"

"You next, Harriet," James said, passing her own shrunken cauldron over. She looked into it and saw her books stacked atop her uniforms and robes. As she stepped towards the grate, the flames flared green. Hurriedly, she stepped back, running into her father, who clamped a hand onto her shoulder.

A spinning figure appeared in the fire. Once it slowed down, it stepped out, straightening up until a tall aristocratic man with long white-blond hair and smoke-grey eyes stood in front of them. One of his hands was wrapped around a black cane with a silver snake head for a handle. He turned his back on them and held his hand out to help a blond woman out of the fire. A small blond boy joined them a few seconds later.

"James!" the man said in mock surprise as he turned around again, one hand on his wife's back, the other on his son's shoulder. "I didn't see you there. And this is…?"

Harry stood proud under the man's scrutiny. "My daughter," James ground out, voice tight. Harry resisted the urge to look up - she'd never heard her father so angry before. Instead, she met the eyes of the boy, who was looking her up and down like a piece of meat, and, from the sneer on his face, a rotten one at that.

"But surely, there's another? Or has he gone ahead with his mother?" Harry winced as her father clenched his hand on her shoulder, hard. She stared at the man in dislike.

"No. He just Flooed home. Now, if you don't mind - " He pushed Harry around the blond family and threw a pinch into the flames, which turned green. "Go," he whispered. She stepped into the flames. The last thing she saw before she spun out of sight was a smirking blonde man turning away from her father, wife and son at his side, and she felt a burning hatred that any man could be so purposefully insensitive about her mother's death.

Harry stumbled out of the fire at the other end, right into Alex's waiting arms. "What took you so long?" he demanded as Harry straightened up and brushed the soot and ash from her clothes. She took her shrunken cauldron from her pocket and placed it on the table for James to un-shrink.

"A family showed up and blocked the Floo," she said as she joined Alex in waiting for their father to come through. "I don't think Dad likes them very much."

"I wonder why?" Alex mused as they stared at the flames. "Maybe they're rivals at work or something."

"I dunno." Harry frowned, remembered the almost predatory vibe the blonde man had given off. "I don't think that man works."

Alex cut off his response when the flames turned green and James stepped out of the fire. "Dad," Harry said in relief.

James ignored her and approached Alex. "Whatever you do, son, do not let your guard down around Draco Malfoy." Harry and Alex traded surprised looks as their father un-shrunk their cauldrons and placed the bulky package containing their telescopes, scales, dragon-hide gloves, and the star charts and globe of the moon onto the table next to them. "I'm going to work now. Be good and start your new books. You don't want to be ill prepared." He took a step towards the fireplace. "And don't use your wands. I've set up wards that will tell me if you do."

Alex made a small noise of outrage, but Harry covered it with a loud, "Yes, Dad."

As soon as their father vanished into the fire, Alex started complaining. "That's rubbish! I bet all the other kids at Asclepius will be have started learning the spells! I'll be so behind!" he whined.

"Oh, shut up," Harry snapped. "At least he didn't take our wands away. He trusts us not to break the rules."

"With a baby-watching spell," Alex muttered rebelliously.

Harry ignored him. "Lets get this stuff upstairs and sort it out." She grabbed her cauldron and the Wiseacre's package. Still grumbling, Alex followed suit. Once in her room, the flopped onto the bed.

"Here's your clothes," Harry said as she pulled the numerous robes and uniforms out of her cauldron. "And the cloak." She was actually a tiny bit upset at having to give up the cloak - purple was much better than black.

"And yours." Alex set the neatly folded stack of clothes next to her cauldron. They traded books next, and Alex immediately grabbed the Arithmancy book Harry had chosen. Harry reached over him and snagged the broom servicing kit and opened it. A book on how to service a broomstick was on top, with a bottle of polish, twig clippers, a very nice brass compass, and a polishing cloth underneath.

"Wow," she breathed as she reverently picked up the book and opened it. "This is amazing."

"Yeah," Alex agreed. She looked over at him curiously. His voice was oddly serious. "Don't mess it up." Understanding that he wasn't referring to her broomstick, she nodded.

"I won't," she promised.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: ** Thank you to those who favorited and/or reviewed. I'll try to keep up a once-weekly update, most likely on Sundays. Enjoy!

* * *

The rest of August flashed past in a blur of flying, reading, and planning. September first dawned with a rush of last-minute packing. James had woken Harry up with an aborted hug and a good-luck wish for the school year before waking Alex and leaving for work. Harry's trunk, which was this year's birthday gift from James, was nearly full. To her great regret, she had to leave her broom at home - first years at Hogwarts weren't allowed to have brooms of their own.

Since Alex would be leaving at nine thirty, they had to work fast. Alex appeared in her bathroom as she was drying off. She yelled at him for not knocking first, but shut up when he help up a pair of kitchen shears. Ten minutes later, she had a haircut identical to his own, but her hair was much less manageable than his dark auburn locks. Hers stuck up all over the place and, like their father's, adamantly refused to lay flat like Alex's did. She gave up after five minutes, to Alex's great amusement.

"Go get dressed," she scowled at him. "You have to arrive to the carriage in uniform." Alex left, still laughing at her new haircut. She glanced in the mirror - the haircut made her look more like a boy, albeit one with a rather feminine face. She would just have to say it was aristocratic, like the blonde boy she'd seen in the Leaky Cauldron, if anyone asked. After one last look in the mirror, at the reflection that didn't quite seem like her reflection, she turned her back on it, gathering up the long locks of hair that had fallen on the tiled floor and putting them, almost tenderly, into the trash receptacle.

Harry returned to her room and followed her own advice. She left all of her clothes where they were and turned to the pile of clothes Alex had brought up last night. Thankfully, James hadn't noticed the boxers when he'd come in to wake her. With great trepidation, Harry selected a clean pair of boxers and slid them on. They were loose, and very different from what she was used to. She shrugged to herself, moving around a little to get used to the feeling, and then pulled on the Hogwarts uniform - black trousers, white shirt, sleeveless grey jumper, black tie that would change colors once she was Sorted, black socks, black shoes. The robe would go over it all, but she wouldn't put that on until she was on the train.

At nine o'clock, Harry and Alex met Triss in the dining room. Each of them had their monogrammed trunks with them, closed tightly.

"Do's master and mistress have their belongings?" Triss squeaked. Harry and Alex nodded. "Triss have gift from Master James for yous!" she squealed in excitement. She snapped her fingers and two small coin pouches appeared in her hands. Harry accepted hers and tucked it into her trouser pocket next to her wand.

"How are we getting to the carriage point?" Alex asked, nerves and excitement clear in his voice.

"Triss is to be taking Master Alex to Carriage Point," Triss squeaked solemnly, turning her large blue eyes on him. "And Mistress Harry is to be Flooing to Leaky Cauldron and taking Knight Bus."

"The what? Why aren't you taking me?" Harry was both astounded and upset. She'd wanted to see where the carriages took off and what they looked like.

"Master James is saying so. To get to Hogwarts ones must be goings to the Leakey Cauldron, miss. And to get to Asclepius Academy ones must be going with me." She looked inordinately proud of her task, but Alex had a worried expression on his face.

"Don't worry, Alex," Harry said bravely. "If this is going to work at school, it'll work now too." Alex nodded uncertainly, then hugged her, squeezing as if he'd never see her again. She hugged him back.

"I'll see you at break," she said into his shoulder.

"No. Asclepius doesn't have a break. We get the two days on either side of Christmas off."

"What?" She broke away from the hug. "Then I'll be staying at Hogwarts."

"What about Dad?" Alex looked torn.

"Exactly. I can't fool him alone. Now go. You don't have long." Alex nodded and seemed to recover his excitement.

"Blow 'em over, Harry."

Harry grinned. "I'll do my best." With that, Triss grabbed Alex's wrist in one hand and his trunk with the other. A sharp pop later, Harry was alone in the house.

Her heart raced as she took a pinch of Floo powder from the mantle and threw it into the fire that had been set hours before. The flames leapt up, green and dancing. She stepped in, dragging her trunk with her, and shouted, "The Leaky Cauldron!"

The pub was busy. Tom had to shout over the noise of families getting ready to do last minute-shopping to tell her how to summon the Knight Bus. Harry thanked him and ventured into muggle London for the first time ever. In awe and disbelief, she took in the bright lights and the cars and the strange outfits some of the women were wearing. With a shake of her head, which felt lighter than normal from the new hair-cut, she tentatively drew her wand and deliberately raised it to shoulder height, pointing it at the road. With a loud bang that made her jump, a vividly purple bus appeared.

"Hop aboard, now!" A pimpled young man who looked barely out of Hogwarts appeared. "No time ta' waste!" He jumped down and, with a small amount of struggle, lifted her trunk onto the bus. She stared at the interior as he maneuvered around the small doorway. Instead of the seats she had seen in the muggle studies book, many large squashy armchairs were scattered around the floor. One of them had apparently fallen over, and a small wizard was grumpily picking it up.

"'Ere, you can 'ave this one," the young man said as he dumped her trunk roughly next to one of the few empty chairs. "An' where' ya' off to?" He eyed her uniform. "'Ogwarts, then? I jus' left las' year." He nodded proudly. "It'll be four sickles to King's Cross, but fer - "

He shut up as Harry pressed four sickles into his hand and sat down. He pocketed the coins and shouted to the front of the bus. "Take 'er away, Ern!" With another loud bang, the bus jolted, sending chairs skidding around. When Harry looked out the window, they were rumbling down a busy street. Harry stared as other cars, light poles, pedestrians, and even a phone-booth jumped out of the way of the badly steered bus. She deduced that there were all sorts of spells on the bus, as none of the muggles gave the bus so much as a backwards glance.

The Knight Bus traveled through six different counties in a single hour. Harry was starting to get nervous - it was already ten thirty, and the train left at eleven. "All righ'! King's Cross next up!" Stan called out, and Harry braced herself against the wall, preventing herself from being thrown backwards as the bus gave a loud bang and appeared on the busiest road yet. It screeched to a halt in front of a large building with a clock tower. Harry stood up at once and grabbed her trunk, following a dark-skinned boy with dreadlocks, also pulling a trunk and in Hogwarts uniform, off the bus and into the station. As covertly as possible, she let him lead her to the correct spot, the barrier between Platform Nine and Platform Ten, struggling a little in order to keep up with his longer legs.

Harry watched as the boy nonchalantly strode through the brick barrier. After a brief moment of hesitation, Harry sidled up to the very solid-looking wall and leaned into it. A second later, she stumbled out onto a steam-obscured platform. The black boy was gone, already lost to the mist, but Harry could make out an elegant sign that read, in large looping letters, Platform 9 3/4. Grinning slightly at her success, even though she knew it wasn't really all that amazing - after all, the platform had been operation for nearly a hundred and fifty years without mishap - Harry lugged her trunk towards the scarlet steam engine.

She passed by families gathered together to bid farewell, and groups of students smiling and laughing at seeing their friends after a long summer. She heard one boy apologizing to what appeared to be his grandmother for tripping on her long robes and dropping his toad. As she neared the train, she caught a glimpse of the boy with dreadlocks, surrounded by a large group of girls urging him to show them what was in the box in his hands.

When she reached the train, Harry struggled with her trunk. After dropping it on her foot, twice, someone tapped her shoulder, startling her into jumping and spinning around. To her immense surprise, it was the red-haired twins from Diagon Alley.

"Need a hand with that trunk?" one of them asked with a grin. The other eyed her speculatively, frowning slightly.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Harry said, hiding her nerves behind a tentative smile. What if they recognized her?

"C'mon Fred," he instructed, and the other finally looked away, a confused expression on his face. With the help of the two older boys, Harry soon had her trunk stored in an otherwise empty compartment. "Fred Weasley," the one who had been staring introduced himself.

"What - I'm Fred today!" the other exclaimed in mock outrage. "I told you this morning that you're George!" Harry grinned - she couldn't help it. These twins seemed like they got into more trouble than she and Alex did on a good day, which was a surprisingly large amount given that there was almost always a house elf at least on the same floor as them, and the portraits kept a quiet eye on them too, even if most of them didn't speak very often, if at all.

"Well, Fred or George, I'm Harry Potter. First year." Identical mischievous smiles spread over their faces.

"Third years." Fred leaned closer. "If you ever need to prank someone, let us know and we'll help."

"For a price, of course," George interjected, his smile becoming slightly darker. "Nothing comes free."

"Naturally," Harry agreed with an answering smirk. Her brother had often offered to prank the elves for her, to keep them from trying to persuade her not to fly, but only if she would clean his room or some such chore. "I'll keep that in mind when I - "

The rest of her sentence was lost when a woman's voice yelled out from the platform. "Fred Gideon Weasley and George Fabian Weasley, get yourselves out here this instant!"

Fred and George winced. "It's bad when middle names come in," George explained over his shoulder as they turned to leave. "Good luck at the Sorting. I've got ten knuts on the troll winning against Ron." They left with one last grin, leaving Harry feeling very nervous. The one thing _Hogwarts, A History_, didn't cover was how students were sorted into the four different houses. She sank into the window seat and watched as Fred and George ambled over to their mother, who was trying to scrub something off her youngest son's face. The small girl stared at the train with obvious longing. All thoughts of trolls or other sorting methods left her head as she eavesdropped on the family.

"Just a bit more, dear," the mother said as she used her handkerchief to scrub at the youngest boy's nose.

"Gerroff, mum!" The boy squirmed from his mother's clutches.

"Ah. Has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his ickle nosie?" The twins snickered at their brother's humiliation.

"Shut up," Ron replied, his face flushing to a deep red.

"Where's Percy?" the mother asked as she rummaged in her large handbag, pulling out four small bundles.

"Here, Mother." Percy was the oldest boy Harry had seen in Flourish and Blotts. He already had his billowing black school robes on and his shiny Prefect's badge pinned proudly to the front. "Can't stay long. We Prefects have two carriages up - "

"Oh, I didn't know you made Prefect!" the twin Harry thought was George interrupted.

"No, hang on," the other said with a look of intense concentration on his face. "I think I remember him saying something. Once - "

"Or twice - "

"A minute - "

"All summer - "

"That's enough," the mother snapped. Harry strained to recall what her father had called her that day in Diagon Alley. Martha? Maddy? No, Molly. "Now, here's your sandwiches." She pressed one of the small bundles into each of her son's hands. "And hurry up, the train's leaving any minute now."

Percy took his sandwich and pecked his mother on the cheek. "I'll owl you with Ron's Sorting," he said stiffly before leaving for the train.

Molly turned on the twins. "You two," she started in a slightly menacing tone. "Behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've - you've blown up a toilet or -"

"Blown up a toilet?"

"We've never blown up a toilet!"

"Really, Mum, how could you think such a thing!" The little girl giggled at her brother's antics.

"Good idea, though. Thanks!"

"I'm not joking! A single toe out of line and I'll - I'll -"

The twins cut off her threat before she could finish it. "Well, thanks for the sandwiches! We've got to go-"

"People to see-"

"Places to go!"

"You know the drill!" The twins took off, leaving their stuttering mother behind with the still giggling girl and Ron.

"Now, I'm sure you'll be fine, Ronnie," Molly cooed to her youngest son. "I want you to - " The train's whistle cut her off.

Ron grabbed the sandwich and ran to the train, his trunk bouncing behind him. "Thanks Mum! See you at Christmas!" he yelled over his shoulder. "Have fun at home, Ginny!" The little girl, Ginny, stuck her tongue out at her brother, who didn't see as he jumped onto the train. Harry lost sight of him as he pulled his trunk in after him, so she turned her attention to the platform. Parents and siblings waved at the train as it started to move. Ginny detached herself from her mother's grip and ran after the train, crying and laughing at the same time. The train rounded a corner, and the platform was lost from view. Harry twisted in her seat so she could look forward. She was officially on her way to Hogwarts.

"Hey, can I sit here?" Harry looked over at the door from where she'd been staring at the large empty fields. The youngest red-haired boy, Ron, stood in the doorway, face flushed. "Only, everywhere else is full and I don't want to sit with my brothers?"

"Fred and George?" Harry asked, uncrossing her legs and letting them dangle towards the floor.

Ron looked wary. "How d'you know them?" His eyes flicked around the compartment as if expecting some sort of trap. Which, from what she'd seen of the twins, was perfectly understandable.

"They helped me with my trunk," she said, motioning to the luggage rack, where the twins had put her trunk.

"Oh, yeah." Ron came the rest of the way in and, after shoving his trunk underneath the long seat, sank into the seat across from her. "Well, I'm their brother. Ron Weasley."

"I'm Harry Potter." She straightened her glasses nervously as the other boy took in her loose uniform - Alex was slightly bigger than her - and then the shiny new trunk.

"Yeah. I remember seeing you in Diagon Alley." Harry tensed up - if he saw her as a girl… "Weren't there two of you, though?" Her muscles relaxed.

"Yeah. Alex - that's my twin - is going to Asclepius Academy to study curse-breaking."

"My brother's a curse-breaker," Ron said immediately. Harry could tell he was glad to have something to talk about.

"Really? I'll have to tell him. He'll be jealous I got to meet you. I bet you know loads about it."

"Not much." Ron shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Bill - he's the oldest - hasn't been home much since he graduated three years ago, so I don't really know what he does."

"How many brothers do you have? I only have Alex, really, since Dad's at work all the time."

"Five brothers, and Ginny." Ron grimaced. "What about your mum?"

"She's dead." Ron paled and stuttered an apology. Harry waved it off. "It's fine. It's not like I knew her or anything. She died right after I was born."

"Sorry," Ron said again. Harry didn't know what else to say, so she turned back to the window and watched as the landscape slowly changed from fields of crops, with the occasional herd of cows or sheep, to untamed meadows. From the corner of her eye, she could see Ron glancing her way every so often as he stroked a fat grey rat that sat on his lap. A kind-looking witch stopped by, pushing a cart full of sweets. Neither Harry nor Ron bought anything - Ron because he had his sandwiches, Harry because she was too nervous to feel hungry. For nearly an hour after the lady left, they continued with their respective activities. Finally, the prickling feeling of his staring motivated her to start another conversation.

"What's your pet's name?" she asked.

Ron, startled by the sudden change in subject, answered by reflex. "Scabbers. Percy gave him to me after Mum and Dad bought him an owl. They didn't have enough mo- " He broke off, embarrassed. Harry, who had never lacked anything in her life except a parent, politely ignored his slip of the tongue.

"I wish I had a pet," she said instead. "Dad wouldn't let me get one." Ron perked up a little, even if she hadn't been entirely truthful. "Who's your team?" she asked, eager to get onto the subject of Quidditch. As a girl, she would have been frowned at, but as a boy…

"The Cannons!" Ron exclaimed enthusiastically. At her noise of disbelief, he kept going. "Sure, they haven't actually won the Cup for - "

"They haven't won anything, lately," Harry interjected. "The Kestrels, on the other hand - "

"Are downright dirty cheaters! Their Seeker couldn't catch the Snitch if it was hexed pink and danced in front of him!"

Harry opened her mouth to say that at least the Kestrels' Chasers could score more than once an hour, but the door to their compartment slid open, revealing a bushy-haired girl with larger-than-average front teeth. Like Harry, she was already in her school uniform, and had her arms crossed over her chest. Unlike Harry, though, she'd already donned her robes as well.

"It's not very polite to argue, you know," she said in a bossy tone. "But anyways, I'm looking for a toad. Have you seen one?"

Ron snickered. "If I'd brought a toad I would have lost it as soon as possible."

The girl frowned at him. "Rats were the cause of the Bubonic Plague."

Harry stood up and moved to the door. "I'm Harry Potter. We haven't seen a toad, but if we do I'll keep a hold on it until we get to the station."

The girl gave her a suspicious look, apparently trying to decide if Harry was being serious. "Fine. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way." She turned to leave, but paused. "You might want to change into your robes, we're nearly there." A quick glance outside told Harry that she was right - the sun was slowly sinking behind the tall mountains. "And you've got a bit of dirt on your nose," she said to Ron. "Just there." She indicated the spot on her own nose before hurrying off on her search for the toad.

Ron flushed and rubbed half-heartedly at his nose. Harry closed the door and clambered up onto the seat, stretching to her full height, but her fingertips only brushed the bottom of her trunk. She groaned, and Ron looked up. "What?" he asked.

"I can't reach my trunk," Harry explained, cursing her shortness and the height of the luggage rack.

"I'll help." Ron jumped onto the seat, nearly knocking Harry off. He easily reached her trunk and started pulling on it.

"Wait," Harry cautioned, bracing herself to help catch the trunk. "Okay, go." Together, the two of them placed the trunk on the seat with minimal injuries. Ron pulled a wrinkled, graying robe from his trunk and slid into it one-handed, sucking on his sore finger. Harry had folded all of her belongings neatly, and picked the top-most robe from the pile.

"Blimey." Ron had closed his trunk and was goggling at the amount of books in Harry's. She had made sure to pack books that would cover approximately the same material as Alex, as well as a few extras that she thought might come in handy. _Hogwarts, A History_, was at the top of the pile. "You must be a Ravenclaw," Ron said as she closed the trunk carefully."

Harry sat back down and shrugged. "Maybe. I really don't know."

"Well, I'm a Gryffindor. My entire family has been." Ron puffed his chest out proudly. "My brother Charlie won the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor when he was a second year. First time in ages. Slytherin gets it, and the House Cup, usually." He scowled heartily as he slumped back on his seat, Scabbers once more on his lap.

Harry didn't know how to respond, so shrugged again. "I don't really care about the House Cup, but as soon as I get on my house's Quidditch team, there's no way we aren't winning." Ron grinned.

"That good?" he asked.

"Yes. And I'm not faking it, either. I'm good at flying and proud of it, too. It's the only reason I'm going to Hogwarts." Ron scoffed. "Really, it is. Asclepius Academy doesn't have Quidditch."

"At all?" Ron's tone of voice indicated that he thought not having Quidditch should be illegal.

"None. A blanket ban on all brooms, I read it in my l - my brother's letter."

Luckily, Ron was too distracted by the thought of no Quidditch that he didn't catch her near slip. "That's mental."

"I know." They shared a smile, and Harry felt that she had just might have just made her first friend. They continued their conversation until the train began to slow down, about half an hour later. Harry could feel her excitement mounting as the train slowed to a crawl, and then stopped with a small lurch. Ron led the way off the train, and Harry followed as closely as possible in order to avoid getting pushed around by the older, bigger students.

"Firs' years, firs' years over here!" Harry and Ron followed the sound of the gruff voice to the largest man Harry had ever seen. He was nearly twice the height of her father, and at least four times as large around. Bushy black hair surrounded his face, which was mostly hidden by a matching beard. The light from the lantern he held in his tea-tray sized hands glinted off his beetle-black eyes and cast shadows across his ruddy complexion.

"Blimey," Ron muttered as he stared at the giant man. "Fred and George weren't joking when they said he was big." A snort behind them alerted them to the presence of a trio of newly arrived first-years. Harry had to prevent herself from narrowing her eyes when she recognized the boy in the middle.

"My father says he's a barbarian and gets drunk every other day," the blonde boy drawled, loud enough for the large man to hear.

"Err." He looked flustered, but quickly regained his confidence. "I'm Rubeus Hagrid, by yer can jus' call me Hagrid. I'm the Keeper of Keys and Grounds 'ere at Hogwarts. Jus' follow me an' I'll take yer t'the boats." He turned and presented them with a view of his large, shabby coat as he lead them down a narrow path. It ended at the shore of a large lake, a small flotilla of boats tied up to a wooden pier.

"All righ' then. Four ter a boat, now. Four ter a boat." The blonde boy and the two larger boys flanking him pushed past Ron and Harry and claimed the first boat.

"Prat," Ron muttered. Harry ignored him and made her way to a boat. The Granger girl was already in it, sitting next to a plump-faced boy who clutched a toad tight against his chest. "Harry, don't - " Ron started, but Harry had already clambered into the boat, nearly falling as it rocked dangerously.

"Coming, Ron?" Harry asked as she settled in. Ron cast a dubious glance at the girl and shook his head.

"Nah. I - er - thought I saw someone on the train." The excuse was a poor one, and Harry felt her heart sink as the red-haired boy turned and joined three boys in a boat four ahead of theirs. She watched as he shook each of their hands in greeting.

"That's all right," Hermione said from behind her. "This way the squid won't be able to tip us as easily."

"Sq - squid?" the boy squeaked. "Gran never said anything about a squid!"

"Don' yer worry 'bout the squid. 'E won' 'urt no one. Dead helpful when it's a-rainin', in fact." Hagrid reached out and untied their boat from the dock, throwing the rope onto the seat next to Harry. "'Ere," he said, passing a small white cube to the boy. "Hold onter' this. It'll make yer float iffin yer fall in."

"Th- thanks," the boy stuttered. Hagrid nodded and moved on to the next boat. Soon, all the boats were untied and he stepped into the slightly larger boat at the very end of the dock. "All righ', hold tigh' everyone." Harry squinted in the darkness and just barely saw Hagrid pull what looked to be a pink flowered umbrella from one of his multiple pockets and tap the side of his boat. "Forward!"

Harry nearly lost her balance as the entire fleet moved forward as one. They glided smoothly over the lake. As they rounded a peninsula, she got her first real look of Hogwarts Castle. Many of the other first years oohed and ahhed at the brightly lit castle with it's tall stone towers and multiple tiny turrets. She tried to count the windows, but gave up at forty-seven. Hermione was talking non-stop about the castle.

"…a hundred and forty-two staircases, and they all move! And then there's also tons of secret passages but no one's ever found them all! The library is supposed to be the best in all England, even better than the Ministry Archives on most subjects!" Harry tuned her out as she recognized all the information from _Hogwarts, A History_.

Too soon, Hagrid shouted out for all the students to duck their heads as they passed into a cave beneath the school. The boats pulled up next to a low stone ledge, and Hagrid helped the students get out of their boats without falling. The boy in Harry's boat still managed to slip, though, and dropped his toad, which promptly made a bid for freedom.

"Trevor!" the boy cried out in panic. Harry pounced on the toad, grabbing the slimy animal before it could disappear into the shadows.

"Here," she said as she presented the toad to it's owner.

"Thanks." The boys smiled, and Harry was startled at the difference it made. Where before the boy's face could have been described as plain, the smile lit up his brown eyes and caused his round face to appear slimmer. "I'm Neville Longbottom, by the way." Harry controlled her face carefully when she heard his last name - this was the boy she would have grown up knowing had her mother lived. He was her god-brother, informally.

"Harry Potter." She nodded at him and turned back towards Hagrid.

"Everyone here?" Hagrid conducted a quick count of the first years. Satisfied with the number, he called out, "All righ' then, follow me." The first years hurried to keep up with the large man's strides as he led them up multiple flights of stairs until they came out in a small courtyard, complete with a fountain that gurgled merrily in the moonlight.

"Thank you, Hagrid." A stern looking witch stepped out from the shadows as they approached a large wooden door. Harry hardly noticed Hagrid's exit as she riveted her attention to the witch. "I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress. In a few moments, you will be Sorted into your new Houses. Before we go into the Great Hall, I have a few words for you. Once you are Sorted, your new House will become your home. Any rule breaking will lose points for your House, and your triumphs will earn points. The four Houses are as follows: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has their own strengths and values, and you should strive to uphold these values." Her gaze swept over the group of nervously fidgeting first years, lingering on Ron's crooked robes and the smudged dirt on his nose. Harry met her eyes evenly when they landed on her, and didn't blink until she looked away.

"Any questions?" No one raised their hands. "Very well. Follow me." She turned on her heel, her green robes flaring behind her, and led the way into the castle. The sound of many people talking came from behind a pair of enormous wooden doors, but Professor McGonagall continued past them and ushered the first years into a long but narrow chamber lined with portraits, with an unlit fireplace in one wall, and another door at the very far end. "Wait here. I'll be back momentarily." She left, closing the door behind her.

After a brief moment of silence, whispers broke out. "I wonder what the Sorting is," a timid-looking blond girl whispered. "My brother wouldn't say."

"_My_ brothers said that we had to wrestle a troll." Harry recognized Ron's voice but didn't turn to look - she was too busy staring at the portrait of a lady dressed entirely in purple who was gazing single-mindedly into a crystal ball.

"Yes, well, I imagine your brothers make stories up quite often, Weasel," the blonde boy from Diagon Alley drawled. Harry tore her gaze from the crystal-ball gazing portrait in time to see Ron flush scarlet. "After all, they didn't have any money for toys."

"It's Weasley," Ron snarled. "And no need to ask who you are. My Dad says all Malfoys can be recognized by the fact that their egos are larger than their brains." A few of the other students snickered, but most were too startled by the venom in Ron's voice.

Malfoy's hand flew to his pocket, but McGonagall's return prevented violence from breaking out. As she started to speak, Harry heard Hermione mutter, "Barbaric!" under her breath.

"We are ready for you," Professor McGonagall announced. "Follow me." As one of the last to enter the room, Harry was one of the first to leave. Ron soon pushed up next to her, elbowing Hermione and Neville aside.

"Can you believe that prat!" Ron complained as they approached the doors of the Great Hall. "Acts like he's better than everyone else." Harry made a noncommittal noise, which seemed to mollify Ron. She was just glad he hadn't forgotten about her in favor of the boys he had crossed the lake with.

Professor McGonagall halted in front of the doors. "Form two lines, now," she commanded, and a quick scurry ensued. Harry found herself in the second row with Ron, behind a pair of Indian twins. "Very good."

With a flick of her wrist, Professor McGonagall opened the doors, which swung apart slowly, revealing a long rectangular room with four long tables and one shorter one upon a raised dais. Harry and the rest of the first years bobbed along in the teacher's wake as she led them between the tables decorated in yellow and blue. Thousands of candles floated in midair above the tables, and the ceiling reflected the night sky.

"It's only enchanted to look like the sky outside," Harry heard Hermione whisper from a few rows back. "I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_."

Finally, they reached the front of the room. Before the smaller table, which seated the members of the staff, Harry saw a single three-legged stool with a graying patched hat upon it. "Wait here," Professor McGonagall instructed. Harry nearly ran into the girls in front of her from the sudden stop. The stern-looking witch climbed the four steps to the higher level and pulled a roll of parchment from her pocket. "When I call your name, you will come up and try the hat on." She moved over to the stool. Harry waited, a mixture of fear and anticipation building inside, but Professor McGonagall didn't move. She was staring at the hat. Glancing around, Harry noticed that the entire student body was watching the hat as well, so she quickly snapped her gaze to the ragged headwear as well.

A rip near the brim opened, and to Harry's surprise, the hat started to sing.

"_Oh you may not think I'm pretty_

_ But don't judge on what you see,_

_ I'll eat myself if you can find _

_ A smarter hat than me._

_ You can keep your bowlers black, _

_ Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_ For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_ And I can top them all._

_ There's nothing hidden in your head_

_ The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_ So try me on and I will tell you _

_ Where you ought to be._

_ You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_ Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_ Their daring nerve and chivalry_

_ Set Gryffindors apart;_

_ You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_ Where they are just and loyal,_

_ Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_ And unafraid of toil;_

_ Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_ If you've a steady mind,_

_ Where those of wit and learning,_

_ Will always find their kind;_

_ Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_ You'll make your real friends,_

_ Those cunning folk use any means_

_ To achieve their ends._

_ So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_ And don't get in a flap!_

_ You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_ For I'm a Thinking Cap!_"

Silence rang loudly through the hall for a few seconds before students began to applaud. When the clapping died out, Professor McGonagall opened the scroll. "Abbott, Hannah!" she called out. The timid blonde girl pushed her way through the crowd of first years and climbed the stairs, nearly tripping on the top one. A few students snickered and she flushed bright red but kept going. Professor McGonagall smiled kindly and held the hat up for Hannah to sit down before placing it on her head. It slid down until it covered most of her face. After a brief silence, the brim opened and it shouted out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Smiling happily, Hannah made her way to the cheering table decorated in yellow and black. Soon after, Susan Bones joined Hannah at the Hufflepuff table. Harry grew more and more nervous as Professor McGonagall worked her way through the alphabet. Harry watched as Hermione was Sorted into Gryffindor, eliciting a groan from Ron. Neville soon joined Hermione, although he had to jog back to Professor McGonagall to return the Hat, which he had forgotten to take off. The blonde boy, Draco Malfoy, was Sorted into Slytherin before the Hat even touched his sleekly groomed hair.

Finally, the P's started. Pansy Parkinson joined Malfoy and his two large goons at the Slytherin table, and the twins were split up into Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. When Professor McGonagall called out, "Potter, Harry!" she took a deep breath and climbed the shallow steps. Before the hat slipped over her eyes, she caught a glimpse of the hundreds of eyes staring at her with various degrees of interest.

_Hmm, difficult, very difficult_, a small voice sounded in her head. Harry relaxed immediately. She'd read about magical objects that could read your thoughts; they were few and far between, and none were malevolent of their own accord. _Ahh, a clever one. You could do well in Ravenclaw, plenty of smarts up here._ The Hat sounded fairly surprised. _But given who your parents were, perhaps that's to be expected._ After a brief silence, the Hat sounded again. _But what's this! A deception! Oho, this is precious! The ambition and drive, maybe Slytherin is better. Although the plan itself is very daring. Hmm._

The Hat's thoughts tapered off and Harry started to panic. _Not Slytherin, please, not Slytherin_, she though desperately.

_Oho! And why not? You would rise to greatness in Slytherin. Slytherin could help you on your path. You have talents that old Salazar prized above all else...it's all laid out here for me to see._

_No, I can't. Dad would never approve. He would come to ask why and then he'd realize - _

_That you are not your brother. Very wise, very clever, Miss Harriet. _A fleeting worry passed through her head, and the Hat chuckled. _No, I will not betray your secret, Miss Harriet. That's not my purpose. I merely Sort. And where to put you, where indeed. So many choices - you could go into any of the four…_

_Put me where you would put Alex, please!_ she pleaded. Harry dredged up all the memories of her brother she could find, thrusting them at the Hat.

_Gentle, gentle!_ it cried into her mind. _No need for brute force! _She could feel a soft tickling sensation as the Hat flipped through her memories. _Yes, your brother is a crafty fellow, much like the Weasley twins. Ah, I see you've met them! Charming boys, I haven't seen such a devious pair of brains since your own father was here! But that was years ago, and I daresay he's changed? Yes, yes, very much so…_

Harry waited with bated breath as the Hat continued to sift through her thoughts. She was vaguely aware of time passing as students began to mutter and shift in their seats. Even Professor McGonagall started tapping her shoe, although she quickly stilled it.

_Very well, then. If you are determined to be where your brother would -_

_YES!_ Harry mentally shouted at the Hat. She felt it tighten around her head in unspoken rebuke.

_Too bad. You would have done well in Ravenclaw._ At her soft growl, the Hat quickly continued. _But as it is, better be _GRYFFIDOR!

Harry heard the Hat shout the last word out loud, and she swept it off her head with one last _Thank you!_ She forced herself not to jump in the air and shriek with joy as she walked to the cheering table. Fred and George beckoned her over, scooting aside to make a spot between them. Harry nodded to Hermione and Neville as she passed them and sat down.

"Took ages, it did!" George beamed at her.

"Beat last year's record by nearly five minutes!" Fred added.

"How long - " Harry started to ask, but their older brother Percy the Prefect made a shushing motion at her so she shut her mouth and turned her attention to the Sorting in time to see a tow-headed boy make his way to the now-cheering Hufflepuff table.

As "Roper, Sophie" climbed the steps, trembling nervously, George leaned down and whispered into her ear, "Eight minutes. You had twelve and a half." Percy hissed at them but the twins merely smiled at him and winked down at Harry. She grinned at them and clapped enthusiastically as Sophie Roper joined Hermione and the other two first year Gryffindor girls at the end of the table.

The rest of the Sorting passed quickly, something Harry was extremely grateful for as she realized just how hungry she actually was. Ron was Sorted into Gryffindor after only a few seconds, and the last boy, Blaise Zabini, joined Malfoy at the Slytherin table.

As Professor McGonagall carried the stool and the Hat out of the Great Hall, the Headmaster stood up. Harry recognized him from many books, including _Hogwarts, A History_, even if he looked at least a decade older.

"Welcome, one and all!" He beamed around the room, his blue eyes twinkling madly behind half-moon spectacles. "As I'm sure you're all very hungry, I'll save the announcements for after our marvelous feast. Tuck in!" He clapped twice and immediately the golden platters and bowls filled with every sort of food imaginable.

"Excellent!" the twins cried, and they immediately piled some of everything they could reach onto their plates. Fred also spooned some peas and mashed potatoes onto Harry's plate with a wink.

"In case you can't reach with your small arms," he said with a smirk. She glared at him and grabbed a few chicken drumsticks, just to show that she could. George grabbed one from her plate.

"Here, Fred," he said. "Drumstick?"

"I'd be delighted!" George made to throw the drumstick over Harry's head, but she nabbed it midair. Fred and George exchanged startled looks at her quick reflexes. Harry took a large bite from the drumstick.

"Careful," a black skinned boy sitting across from them joked. "He looks like he bites hard." Harry realized that it was the same boy she had followed off the Knight Bus earlier that day.

"I don't have rabies, so you should be okay if I do," she sniffed before spooning a bite of potatoes into her mouth. The three of them broke into laughter.

"He'll do," the other boy chuckled. "I'm Lee Jordan, by the way. Third year along with these two morons."

"Hey, I'm not the moron! He is!" the twins protested at the same time. Harry choked on her bite of chicken as Fred and George started bickering over her head. She could see their brother Percy glaring at them for making such a racket at the dinner table, but when she glanced down to where the rest of the first years sat, her heart sank. Ron was glaring at her from over his pile of chips and chicken drumsticks and through the ghost of a stately-looking man wearing a large ruff talking to Hermione. Harry was confused - what had she done to make him so angry at her? She had thought they were friends. _But I've never had friends before_, she reminded herself as she took a sip of chilled pumpkin juice. _It's always just been Alex and me._

The rest of the feast passed quickly. She didn't pay much attention to what Fred, George, and Lee discussed - she was too busy worrying about not knowing how to be a friend. When the desserts melted back into the plates, Headmaster Dumbledore stood up and cleared his throat.

"Now that we are properly befuddled by our excellent feast, I have a few announcements. First off, our caretaker Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that magic is not allowed in the corridors." A few snickers were heard from the Slytherin table across the hall, but the Headmaster ignored them. "For our new students, and some of our returning ones - " here his eyes flicked over to Fred and George, who smirked " - the Forbidden Forest is strictly out of bounds. And this year, the right hand corridor on the third floor is cordoned off, unless you wish to die a most painful death." A few students laughed at this last announcement, but the majority of the hall remained quiet.

"Is he serious?" Harry whispered to George, who nodded absently.

"Never does nothing without a reason," Fred remarked, although he was staring up at the head table in slight confusion. "Don't know about this one, though."

"And now, before we retire to our beds, let's join together in singing the school song!" Harry noticed that the teacher's smiles became decidedly forced. A dark-haired man dressed entirely in black didn't even bother hiding his scowl, and the pale-faced man with a large purple turban looked like he was about to sick up.

"Here we go!" Dumbledore announced cheerfully as a long golden ribbon streamed from the end of his wand. "Just pick your favorite tune and follow along!" The ribbon formed words, and the entire school bellowed out,

"_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy warty Hogwarts,_

_ Teach us something please!_

_ Whether we be old and bald,_

_ Or young with scabby knees!_

_ Our heads could do with filling,_

_ With some interesting stuff!_

_ For now they're bare and full of air,_

_ Dead flies and bits of fluff!_

_ So teach us things worth knowing,_

_ Bring back what we've forgot!_

_ Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_ And learn till our brains all rot_!"

Everyone finished at different times, until only Fred and George, seated on either side of her, were left singing to a slow dirge. As their last notes died out, Dumbledore wiped a tear from his eye.

"Ah, music, a magic greater than any we practice here. Well, then, off to bed. Pip pip!"

With a cacophony of loud scraping, benches were pushed back and students started crowding towards the great doors. Harry made to follow Fred and George, but a hand on her shoulder held her back. Looking up, Harry met the eyes of Percy the Prefect.

"You're coming with me," he instructed before turning and calling out, "First years, Gryffindor first years over here!" Harry shrugged his hand off her shoulder and waited. Soon, all nine of the Gryffindor first years were gathered around Percy. The Great Hall was nearly empty, except for a group of older Ravenclaw students who had clustered around the smallest professor up at the head table. "Follow me, and keep up." Percy turned and led them out of the Great Hall and up a large marble staircase, talking the whole while. Harry recognized all the information from _Hogwarts, A History_, and tuned him out, focusing instead on the path they were taking.

Time seemed to stretch out as they climbed and climbed. Portraits waved and smiled at the new students, but Harry was too tired to care. Finally, they stopped in front of a portrait of a very rotund lady dressed entirely in pink. She realized that this was the entrance to the Gryffindor common room and turned her attention to Percy in time to hear him say, "…password is Caput Draconis." The portrait swung open as if on hinges, revealing an elegantly arched portal just wide enough to fit two people at once. Percy led the way in, and Ron and his two new friends followed right away. Harry let the girls go first, and then helped Neville up before scrambling in herself. The bottom of the portrait hole was situated nearly two and a half feet from the stone floor, but she made it through just before the painting swung closed behind her.

"Boys up and down to the left, girls the same to the right," Percy said, indicating the correct staircases from the middle of the cozy-looking room. "It's late and you'll need to be up early tomorrow so I suggest you go to bed as soon as possible."

Harry suppressed a yawn and headed to the right. Before she could set foot on the staircase, a loud voice stopped her. "Potter, where do you think you're going? That's the _girls_ side."


	3. Chapter 3

Harry woke up early the next morning and made a bee-line to the bathroom. Her plan for avoiding detection by her roommates involved getting up at five-thirty and taking a shower before any of the others rose for breakfast. She tiptoed carefully between her bed and Seamus's on her way to her trunk, which had been placed at the foot of her large four-poster bed. She wished she had an armoire of some sort to hang her robes in so they didn't wrinkle, but figured she could always learn a charm for that. And since the other boys didn't worry about it, she figured she shouldn't make a fuss over the issue, either.

When she emerged from the bathroom, her four roommates were still asleep. Her bed was in between Neville's and Seamus's. Neville's was right next to the door to the landing, as was Dean's. Ron was in between Dean and Seamus, and seemed very pleased with it. If his snoring was anything to judge by, his bed was very comfortable.

_But then_, she thought as she tucked her pajamas into her trunk and started emptying it of all books and school supplies, _mine was comfortable too. More comfortable than the one at home, even_. Moving quietly with the smooth motions she had perfected while sneaking around the restricted parts of Potter Manor, Harry navigated between her and Neville's bed and started piling the books on the small shelf that doubled as a nightstand. There was just enough room left over for her supply of parchment and extra ink and quills. With that done, she sat on the edge of her bed and stared out the window at the rising sun, wondering how Alex was faring at Asclepius Academy.

* * *

Seamus was the next to wake, and the noise he made when he tripped on his trunk, and subsequent swearing, woke the other three.

"'S'too early Mum," Ron moaned sleepily before turning over and hiding his face in his pillow. Dean and Seamus snickered before leaving for the bathroom. Neville followed them silently a few moments later.

Harry sighed and approached Ron's bed carefully. "Ron," she said loudly, "It's time to get up or you'll be late for breakfast."

"Wha'?" Ron sat up, blinking his sleep-clouded eyes. When he realized who it was, a mixture of irritation and hurt crossed his face. "Oh. It's you." He slumped back onto his pillow.

Harry gritted her teeth and went straight for the heart of the problem, unwilling to face a year of unease between the two of them. "Look, Ron, what's got you so upset? I'm sorry if I did something. I just want to be your friend." It was quite easily one of the most difficult things she'd ever had to do, apologizing to Ron. She rarely had to apologize to anyone - the spats between herself and Alex usually were left purposefully forgotten once their problems had been argued out.

"You want to be my friend," Ron said with a small humorless laugh. "Did Fred and George put you up to it? Don't bother denying it," he snapped when she opened her mouth in confusion. "I saw you with them, laughing at me."

"We weren't - " Harry started, but he talked over her protestation with bull-headed determination.

"You probably think you're so great, getting on with high and mighty _third_ years, so much better than their kid brother."

"_That's _what this is all about?" Harry asked in shock. "If you really think I'd pick them over you, you've got another thing coming!" She gave a toss of her head that didn't achieve the same result as when she'd had long hair, but compensated for it by putting her hand on her hip and stabbing her finger at the red-haired boy. "The only reason I sat with them is because _they_ made room for _me_. And they made room for you, too, but you were so busy with your head up your arse that you didn't notice." Ron's mouth opened and closed like a fish, but Harry kept going. "And if you think I'm some sort of - of political social climber, then I wouldn't _want_ to be your friend!" She finished with a loud huff of indignation and stormed from the room, nearly bowling Neville over as he exited the bathroom.

"Sorry," she said, catching his arm as he teetered dangerously on the lip of the landing, her anger fading in an instant.

"It's okay," Neville said nervously. He glanced at her warily before asking, timidly, "What was that about with Ron? I could hear you through the running water."

Harry winced. "Oh. Nothing, really. Just a minor misunderstanding."

Someone whistled on their stairs above them, and Harry turned to see who it was. The Weasley twins and a brown-haired boy who looked vaguely familiar stood in their pajamas, wands sticking from their pockets. "If that was minor," one of the twins started.

"- then you've got a temper - "

" - to rival a Weasley's!" They grinned like it was some sort of compliment.

Harry didn't know what to say, and stood in awkward silence. From the doorway behind her came a small cough. Ron stepped onto the landing, a bit sheepishly. "Er. Yeah, he does. Sorry for being a bloody prat, Harry. It was stupid, really."

Harry smiled at him, relieved that her apology, stunted though it was, had worked. "My mum had red hair. Maybe that's where I get it." The three Weasley's, Neville, and the other boy all burst out laughing.

Dean came out of the bathroom in only his boxers. "What'd I miss?" he asked. Harry forced herself not to blush and looked away. Alex, at least, had always worn pajama pants in her presence.

"Nothing," she said. "Just a little misunderstanding." The twins' laughter doubled and they clung to each other in an attempt not to fall down.

"Here now," the older boy said, grabbing at them as they started leaning too far forward. "Don't go injuring yourself before the start of the season!"

With a jolt of panic, Harry recognized the other boy. That was the one who'd accidentally knocked into her in Quality Quidditch Supplies. "Well, got to go!" she said quickly.

"See you later," Neville said as she all but flew down the staircase into the common room, desperate to escape the three people who might recognize her.

* * *

Harry didn't make it to breakfast until it was nearly over. She stepped into the Great Hall, panting slightly the fast pace she had kept up in her desperation to get to breakfast on time.

"There you are, Mr. Potter." Professor McGonagall stalked towards him, face stern, a piece of parchment clutched in one hand. "It was foolish of you to leave before the Prefects led you down."

"Um. Sorry?" Harry offered, unsure as to what to say. "It won't happen again."

"Very well. See that it doesn't. Your schedule." Professor McGonagall passed her the parchment and left the hall, the hem of her robes knocking gently against Harry's shins as she passed.

Harry read her schedule as she walked to the Gryffindor table and sat. She was scheduled for Charms, then Transfiguration, a break for lunch, History of Magic, and a double-period of Herbology.

"Here." Harry jumped when a scoop of eggs appeared on her plate, followed by a piece of toast, a sliced orange, and two rashers of bacon. She had somehow seated herself next to Hermione, the bossy girl from the day before. "You need a balanced breakfast if you're going to do well in class."

"Thanks," Harry said shortly. The girl really was too interfering for her own good. Even Triss allowed her to serve her own food. Hermione had assumed too much - for one, Harry hated eggs.

Harry had only eaten a few bites of toast when Seamus called to her from further down the table. "Hey, Harry, come sit with us!" Harry waved and stood, telling herself to ignore the hurt look on Hermione's face as she did so. Seamus, Ron, Dean, and Neville all welcomed her with various degrees of enthusiasm. Ron seemed both pleased and irritated that Dean and Seamus wanted to know all about her and her brother, who they desperately wanted to meet and couldn't understand why he wasn't at Hogwarts. Partly to appease Ron and partly to reduce her own discomfort, she changed the subject.

"What are you looking forward to most here?" she asked the four boys.

Neville answered first, a rather beatific smile on his face as he talked. "Herbology. Gran says it's a waste of time, but I just love how I can get a seed or a cutting and have it grow into - "

"Wow, mate, into poetry much?" Dean asked as Ron gave Neville a look of incredulity. "I can't wait for Transfiguration - I mean, come _on_, it's like the quintessential wizarding skill. All the books I read growing up had wizards changing people into frogs and that sort of thing."

Ron snickered. "What kind of books were you reading?"

"Just regular fairy-tales," Dean said, shrugging. Ron's face contorted into a confused frown, but someone else spoke before he could get a word out.

"Yeah, well, I can't wait for Charms and Potions," Seamus butted in, a slightly maniacal smile crossing his face and a glazed look in his eyes. "I just want to learn how to make things blow up. Fire's amazing, really."

Harry eyed him carefully, wondering what had happened in Seamus's life that had made him so fanatical about fire. "Just keep it out of the dorm," she said after an awkward pause where they all stared at Seamus uncertainly. Even Neville laughed, although Harry thought it was part in relief. "What about you, Ron?" she asked.

"Eh. I don't really know. I've just heard so many stories from the twins and Bill and Charlie and Percy that don't match up that I can't decide. Definitely _not_ Potions, though. Snape's a terror. Even _Percy_ says he's strict."

"That's a shame. My Mum was really good at Potions," Harry said. Neville, Seamus, and Dean looked at her, questioning expressions on their faces. "She's dead," she explained, poking at the now-cold eggs that Hermione had put on her plate.

"I'm sorry," Neville said softly, eyes full of pity and empathy. The others nodded.

"Thanks. It's not so bad, really. I've still got Dad, and Alex."

After a few moments of silence, Seamus piped up. "Well, what about you?" he asked. "What are you looking forward to?"

Harry grinned. "Quidditch," she answered smugly. And with that, the conversation flowed until the bell rang, dismissing breakfast.

* * *

In both Transfiguration and Charms, Harry sat with Neville. Dean and Ron sat next to each other, with Seamus in the seat behind them. Harry enjoyed Transfiguration more than she expected - Professor McGonagall had started the class by Transfiguring her desk into a pig and back. Harry couldn't wait to get started, but her enthusiasm was tamped down quite a bit when they were told inanimate-to-animate transfigurations of that caliber wouldn't be covered until their seventh year. They started out by turning matchsticks into needles, but by the end of the class the most successful student was Hermione Granger, who'd managed to transmute her entire match to silver, except for the head, which remained a bright sulfuric red. Harry got a respectable nod from the teacher, as hers was the only match to go slightly pointy at one end and it had streaks of silver through the grain of the wood, the head transfigured into a mostly wooden eye. She'd spent most of her time helping Neville, who hadn't been able to get his match to do anything except flop despondently once or twice. Seamus' desk had to be repaired when his match lit of its own accord and nearly burnt a hole through the top.

Charms was a practical lesson, but Harry didn't enjoy it much. The tiny professor sent a sympathetic glance her way when taking attendance, and proceeded to tell the entire class that her mother had been one of his favorite and most talented students. After that, most of the students, especially the Ravenclaws they shared the class with, watched her for any burgeoning Charms skills, even though they were only going over basic every-day charms such as the Mending Charm and a nifty all-purpose scrubbing charm, which everyone could perform faultlessly by the end of the class.

* * *

As the week progressed, Harry relaxed into her schedule. Every morning, she would wake up at half-past five to take a shower and use the restroom before the boys got up. From six to seven fifteen, she worked on homework or read in the common room. After the first day, the fire was always lit before she arrived, doubtlessly by the house-elves she knew must be employed in the kitchens. Neville was the first of her roommates to rise, so when he came down, she would go with him to the Great Hall and eat breakfast with him. By the time they finished their first pieces of toast, Ron, Seamus, and Dean would join them. The five of them would talk, mainly about Quidditch or homework, until class.

The classes themselves were fascinating. Harry had read a lot about magic during the long years at Potter Manor, but actually practicing what she read was radically different than simply reading about it in a book. The only classes that didn't excite her were History of Magic and, much to her disappointment, Defense Against the Dark Arts. It took all of her willpower to simply stay awake and take notes in History of Magic, even though she'd already read the entire book. Most of the rest of the class, including the Ravenclaws they shared it with, slept. In fact, the only other student who took notes was Hermione Granger. Defense Against the Dark Arts, one of the classes she had been most looking forward to, was a joke. The purple-turbaned professor stuttered through explanations that made no sense and ended up confusing her until she read through the chapter after class. Even Hermione had an unsure expression on her face by the end of class, and the Hufflepuffs appeared absolutely lost.

* * *

By Thursday, Harry had realized that Hermione was the only other Gryffindor first-year she had to compete with. Neville, while inordinately talented at Herbology, could barely repair a shattered teacup in Charms, and his matchstick remained stubbornly a matchstick. Ron and Dean were too caught up in their jokes and exploring to study, and Seamus seemed to cause explosions wherever he went. Parvati, Sophie, and Lavender were moderately good at Charms, and knew more Astronomy than all four boys put together, but too often spent more time fussing about their hair or outfits to really excel at either subject.

* * *

On Friday morning, Harry received her first letter. A brown owl swooped down to her plate and left a note on her hash browns.

"'Oo's it 'rom," Ron asked through a mouthful of sausage.

Harry carefully opened the note and read it. "Your brothers," she said, slightly confused. Except for the run-in on the staircase Monday morning, she had seen neither hide nor hair of the twins, except once when she'd caught a glimpse of them whispering together in a dark corner of the common room.

"What do they want?" Ron eyed the note warily. "They're not up to something, are they?"

"I don't know," Harry replied. "They just want to meet me by the lake after class today."

"Yep, they're up to something," Ron said. He paused before saying, "Just, be careful. I don't know half the things they get up to but Mum got at least one letter a week last year just about them."

Harry nodded. "Thanks for the warning. I'll keep it in mind." She turned to Neville. "Want to come with me?"

"Me?" Neville asked, surprised.

"Yeah. You're my friend." Harry had decided that Neville was very much her friend, even if she didn't exactly know what friendship was. They sat together in every class, she helped him with Transfiguration and Charms, and he talked with her about Herbology. If that wasn't friendship, she didn't know what was. She certainly did similar things with her brother, and he was definitely her friend.

"I am?" He blushed. "I mean, thanks. But I can't. Professor Sprout said I could help her in Greenhouse Two! That's where she keeps the Unicorn Trees and the Lilac Azegernias - the only ones in all Britain!"

"Oh. Congratulations," Harry said with a supportive smile. She was happy for Neville, but kind of wished he could have come with her. She enjoyed his company - he was like a calmer, less intelligent Alex. Harry was really starting to miss her brother - they hadn't been apart like this for their entire lives.

"Thanks. She said that if I come for three extra hours each week, she'll let me into Greenhouse Three in a few months."

"That's really exciting," Harry said as she tucked the note into her bag and glanced up and down Gryffindor table, searching for Fred and George. They weren't there. She saw the first year girls sitting together, although Hermione was reading the Potions textbook, most likely in preparation for their lesson after breakfast. She turned to Ron. "What do you know about the Potions professor?" she asked. Ron was the only one of her roommates with older siblings, and therefore prior knowledge of what the professors were like.

He broke off from dithering over which was the best scone and turned, skin paling. "Oh no," he groaned. "I forgot we have Potions today!"

"That bad?" Dean asked.

"Worse," Ron replied. "You'll see." He gave up on picking through the scones and turned to Harry. "Will you partner with me? Please?"

"Why? I've never made a potion before in my life. I've never even seen one being made. You probably have more experience than I do."

"But you're so good at everything else." The other four boys nodded in agreement.

"No I'm not," Harry replied. "Hermione's way better at Charms, and Neville's amazing at Herbology. And Lavender and Parvati have the entire night sky memorized!"

"And you know nearly as much as they do about it!" Seamus put in. "I would never have found Lyra if you hadn't pointed it out."

"And you Transfigured your match into a needle faster than Hermione last lesson!" Ron added. "Not to mention you actually manage to stay awake during History of Magic!"

"And can explain whatever Quirrell stutters on about in Defense better than he can!" Dean put in. "I wouldn't have understood that thing about poltergeists versus ghosts versus spirits if you hadn't broken it down like you did."

"Are you sure you're not a Ravenclaw?" Seamus chimed in, a serious expression on his face. "You've got enough books to be one." The other boys laughed in agreement.

"The Sorting Hat considered it," Harry admitted, fishing her Potions text out of her bag. "But I managed to get it to put me here instead." Before the boys could ask why, the dismissal bell rang and they stopped laughing.

"Potions," Ron said in a low voice. "Kill me now."

"It can't be that bad," Harry said, although from her few glimpses of the professor, she wasn't at all sure of herself.

"It is that bad," Ron said as they left the Great Hall in a group. "You'll see."

And he was right. Everything about Potions, from the professor to the classroom, was bad. The lesson took place in the dungeons, where they all shivered in the cold, dark atmosphere. Professor Snape had singled Harry out right away, glaring at her with a hatred she'd never seen before in her life. He'd asked her questions that she wouldn't have known the answers to if she hadn't read her mother's potions books, and then had taken a point away for cheating. Then, when she brewed a perfect Cure for Boils Draught, he had sneered at her that it was too thin, even though it was the best one in the class. By the end of the class, she was barely holding in her tears of frustration. She had wanted to be good at Potions, as a way to connect herself to her mother.

As soon as the bell rang, Harry bolted from the classroom, nearly running over Neville, who had dropped his bag on the ground and spilled his belongings all over the floor. She dodged the blonde boy, Malfoy, and his two large goons to be the first one out the door. She walked until no one was in sight, then ran up the stairs and through the Entrance Hall. She nearly flew past the group of third year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs coming back from Care of Magical Creatures. She only stopped running when she arrived at the rocky shores of the Black Lake. After dumping her bag at the foot of a tall beech tree, she took off her shoes and socks. Without bothering to roll up her pant legs, she waded into the lake.

The icy water bit at her toes, and the tears that had threatened to spill over her cheeks dried up as she gasped at the frigid temperature. She simply stood and stared out over the wind-blown surface of the lake, going over the day's Potions lesson. She couldn't understand why Professor Snape didn't like her - the man was obviously biased towards his own house, but that didn't explain his behavior towards her. If she didn't know better, she would say that the man loathed her. Not even Ron, younger brother of the twin terrors, had received so much negative attention as she had.

Her feet had gone totally numb when she heard two sets of feet approaching.

"Oy, Potter, are you barking?" Harry stumbled a bit as she turned around, her feet too frozen for her to feel well enough to balance on the slippery rocks of the lake. Fred and George had arrived. She had totally forgotten about their note at breakfast in the aftermath of the potions lesson.

"N - no," she shivered. When had it gotten so cold? And when had the sun gotten so low in the sky? She tottered towards the shore, her soaked pants dragging heavily with every step. Each of the twins took a hand and helped her out. "Th - thanks," she stuttered, teeth chattering.

"You know, Fred," one of them said. Harry assumed it was George, although she couldn't be sure. "I'm sure we were never so mad as firsties."

"I agree," the other proclaimed grandly, pulling his wand out of his pocket and directing it at Harry, who flinched back a little, earning a reprimanding tweak of the ear from the first. She relaxed the one she thought was Fred muttered, "Siccuvesta." Her clothes began to steam as the water evaporated. He pocketed his wand. "He's only slightly mad. We were much worse."

Harry smiled. "Aha!" George exclaimed. "He smiles!" They dragged her over to the beech tree and sat her down. She busied herself with putting her shoes back on while they talked.

"So, Harry - " Fred started.

"We were wondering - "

"Just idly, of course, nothing too strenuous."

"- how stupid you thought we were."

Harry looked up from tying her shoes. "Wh -what?" The bottom of her stomach seemed to fill with lead as she looked from one freckled face to the other. Neither of them were smiling, and their identical blue eyes were completely serious. "What are you talking about."

They sighed dramatically. "Now, really," Fred said. "And here we were thinking you were intelligent."

They leaned forward so they formed a sort of cage around her, with the tree trunk at her back. "We know you're a girl," they whispered together.

Harry swallowed quickly, shoving her fear aside. "What are you talking about?" she laughed nervously. "You're cracked! I'm a boy! My name is Harry Remus Potter, and my twin is Alexander James Potter!"

The twins exchanged an amused glance and seated themselves on either side of her, their arms pressing into hers. "Really," George said with a small grin on his face.

"If you're planning on getting away with this - "

" - and you should - "

"- you need to learn to lie better."

"W - what?" Harry stuttered. Of all things, this was the one thing she hadn't expected. She had thought that, if anyone did find out her secret, they would merely report it and she would be punished by both Professor Dumbledore and her father. It seemed that the twins were offering - advice?

Their grins widened to smirks. "I knew it," Fred said quietly, almost whispering in her ear. "Ever since the train I knew I had seen you before. It finally came to me on Monday morning, when we saw you on the stairs."

"It was the way you blushed," George added. "For future reference, you've got to get used to male bodies if you're going to pull it off." Harry was too gob smacked to say anything.

"As I was saying," Fred started, "I remembered seeing a girl with black hair - " he ran a hand through her hair, mussing it up, " - and green eyes and glasses." Fred left his arm draped over her shoulder. She ignored it. "In a Quidditch store, no less. And she smirked at us."

"First person daring enough to do so, actually," George said. He too shifted so his arm was over her shoulder.

"So then, we put our heads together and thought it out - "

" - and came to the conclusion that the Quidditch girl and young Harry Potter are one-the-same."

"With the help of some old Daily Prophet's, of course," Fred added. "We destroyed them afterwards." George snickered.

"I don't think we'll be allowed back in the library for a year at least. I've never seen Madam Pince so mad. Thought she was going to have a stroke."

"Which means," Fred said seriously, looking down at Harry, who was still too shocked that her secret had been discovered to do anything more than stare back. "That you'll be getting any books we need for us."

"Too right," George said. "We'd never survive without the library," he deadpanned.

"All that homework reference material," Fred sighed dramatically. "Whatever will we do?"

Harry giggled, clamped her mouth shut when she remembered boys didn't giggle, then realized she could giggle all she wanted with the twins. "But you don't do any homework," she said. It was true. She'd never once seen the twins working on anything in the common room, much less homework - though that wasn't saying much, since she'd only seen them in the common room once that week.

"Of course we do," George said in mock outrage. "We work our arse - "

"Language," Fred interrupted pompously. "We've a lady present." Harry smacked his arm, but he didn't even flinch. Instead, he just grinned at her.

"Ah, of course. We work our derrières off. Pardon my French." Harry laughed outright.

"You won't tell, then?" she asked, her laughter dying away.

"Tell?" they chorused in unison.

"Why, we applaud your deviousness!" George said, beaming.

"You're pranking the entire school, not to mention the Ministry and your father!" Fred looked inordinately proud.

"Now you only need to learn to keep your real identity under wraps," George said. Fred nodded his agreement.

"We'll be in contact," he said as they stood up, leaving Harry feeling oddly bereft as their arms unwound from her shoulders. Never before had she felt so cared for, and never before had she wanted older siblings like she did now. Plus, she was still cold from the lake, and the twins were _warm_.

"And good luck getting onto the Quidditch team," George added as the two of them turned and walked back towards the school, leaving Harry gaping after them as they slowly grew smaller and smaller, wondering how they knew that the only reason she had come to Hogwarts was to earn a spot on the house Quidditch team.

* * *

Harry stared after the twins until long after they vanished into the castle. She likely would have continued doing so, had not a large shadow woken her from her trance.

"'Lo." Harry looked up, squinting against the setting sun. It was Hagrid, the gigantic groundskeeper. He still had on the old, patched mole-skin coat that seemed more pocket than anything else.

"Hi," she said. "Just admiring the lake."

Hagrid beamed. "Yer dad did tha' too. Him and Lily would come down 'ere an' sit under this very same beech. Handsome tree. Were just a saplin' when I was here." A dark scowl crossed his face and Harry had the feeling that as kind as Hagrid seemed, he could be very dangerous in a rage.

"You knew my mother?" she asked, eager for any information he might have. Her father had never said a word to either her or Alex, and had forbidden the elves to speak Lily's name.

"O' course!" Hagrid boomed. His beetle black eyes crinkled with laughter. "I was the one who caught 'em out here after James proposed! Could hardly tell it were two at first." Harry felt slightly queasy - no one needed to know that about their parents. Although she had never found out how, or even when, her father had proposed to her mother. Now she knew it had happened while they were still in school.

"Do you know how Father proposed?" she asked.

Hagrid looked down in surprise. "'e never told yeh?"

"No," Harry said, almost defiantly. "He's too busy working." A flash of sympathy crossed Hagrid's face, and Harry flushed. She knew she shouldn't have said anything - Hagrid had no business knowing about her father's obsession with work. "And he doesn't like talking about Mum," Harry added. Hagrid nodded once.

"Yeh should get ter the Hall," he said.

"Okay." She stood, gathering up her bag, and started towards the castle, leaving Hagrid staring out at the lake behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

The weekend passed quickly after the confrontation with Fred and George. The twins would wink conspiratorially at her whenever they passed each other or saw each other in the common room. Ron immediately feared for his safety, and took to avoiding the twins and Harry at all costs. Since Ron dragged Dean and Seamus with him wherever he went, Harry only had Neville to hang out with. Not that she minded - she now knew, without a doubt, that Neville was her best friend here at Hogwarts. She and Neville spent most of the weekend working on homework. In reality, it only took Harry most of Saturday and a small fraction of Sunday morning. However, once finished with her own work, she set herself to helping Neville. She wouldn't do the work for him, since they had been warned extensively about the consequences of cheating, but she read through his work and made jots and notes where he had errors. She also pointed him to the correct books for the information he needed.

She and Neville spent most of their weekend in the library. Together, they claimed a small table between the Transfiguration and Potions sections, two of the busiest parts of the library. Students passed by, often giving them glares for getting such a choice table. Hermione Granger lurked just behind one of the shelves, but couldn't join them since their table only had enough room for two.

When the weekend finally ended, Harry's head was spinning with all the practice she'd helped Neville with. She was immensely proud of the fact that Neville could now perform a flawless Mending Charm, and could even, sometimes, get his matchstick to turn into silver. It still refused to go pointy.

Professor McGonagall had been duly impressed with Neville, and had encouraged him to keep trying. Professor Flitwick never found out about Neville's improvement because he'd started them on how to hold a wand properly. Harry had to wonder why the small professor hadn't done that on the _first_ day of class instead of the third.

* * *

Tuesday dawned with an air of excitement. The first years couldn't sit still at the breakfast table. "What's put the itching powder in your pants?" Lee asked as he, Fred, and George took seats across from Harry and Neville, who was busy tearing a piece of toast into small shreds.

"Quidditch," Harry said with a grin. She, of all the first year boys, was the only one not acting out. Ron and Seamus were trading stories of how daring they were on a broomstick with the neighboring Hufflepuff boys, who would be joining them, along with the Ravenclaw and Slytherin boys, for their first-ever Flying Lesson. Dean was listening to their bragging with rapt attention, and Neville was slowly turning green.

"Ah, yes, the Fantastic Firstie Flying Lesson," Fred said wisely, nodding seriously.

"A most tragic event," George added.

"What? Why?" Neville gasped.

"The brooms," Fred whispered, a look of horror on his face.

"They - they -" George broke off, apparently too overcome to finish.

"They're as old as Dumbledore!" they finished together with identical grins.

Neville seemed to collapse upon himself in relief. "Oh," he said faintly. "That's good. They won't go as fast." Fred and George looked disgusted with Neville, but didn't say anything when they caught Harry's eyes. She was giving them her most dangerous glare, the one that she rarely used on anyone except Alex when he was being particularly stupid.

The tension was dispelled when Seamus accidentally exploded his goblet of pumpkin juice while trying to turn it into rum. Not long after, the morning owls swooped down. Students were still getting packages of forgotten belongings from their parents, although Harry noted that the blonde snob Malfoy had received a package of sweets from his mother.

"You've got mail!" she exclaimed as a tawny owl dropped a package on Neville's forgotten toast.

Neville reached out and opened it. "It's from Gran," he said, inspecting the glass bauble that had been carefully wrapped in the package. It had white smoke inside it that twisted and contorted like mist on a beach.

"What is it?" Lee asked, leaning forward. "I've never seen anything like it before. What's it do?"

"It's a Remembrall," Hermione spoke from directly next to Harry, who jumped. She hadn't noticed her scooting over towards them. "The smoke turns red when you've forgotten something." As she spoke, the white smoke turned a vibrant scarlet.

"But I don't know what I've forgot," Neville said, forehead wrinkling as he tried to remember something he may have forgotten. Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry.

"You've flown before, haven't you?" she asked. "You must have - your father was Chaser here." She continued on, ignoring Harry's shock - she hadn't known her father had played Quidditch. It seemed that the longer she stayed at Hogwarts, the more she realized how little she knew of her father's past. "So is it better to have your wrists perpendicular or parallel to the broomstick handle?" She barely paused before asking another question. "And how hard do you kick off to only go a few feet off the ground?"

"I don't know," Harry said dumbly. "It's different for everyone, I guess." Hermione looked put out. "Look, flying isn't really that easy to learn - you either get it or you don't. And it doesn't matter either way, since girls don't take flying. You've got Etiquette and Household Management."

"That's completely illogical," Hermione said with a shake of her bushy mane of hair. "Girls are just as capable of flying as boys. And besides, books can teach anything." She reopened _Quidditch Through the Ages_ and buried her nose in it. Fred, George, and Lee stood and left for their first class, snickering over some joke.

As soon as the three older boys were out of hearing, a pale hand snatched the Remembrall from Neville's loose grasp. "Hey!" Neville objected, before shutting his mouth with a snap when he saw who it was. Harry wasted no time jumping to her feet.

"Is everything all right?" Professor McGonagall, who seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to breaking up fights before they started, had appeared behind her.

"Malfoy - " Harry started, but the boy in question spoke over her.

"Just looking," he said, shoving the glass orb back to Neville. "Good luck flying," he sneered as he and his two body-guards slunk back to the Slytherin table.

Harry turned to Professor McGonagall, expecting some sort of telling off. "Finish your breakfast," the professor said instead. "You'll need it for flying."

* * *

Harry and Neville stood next to each other. Neville was throwing covert glances at Harry, who ignored the increasingly panicked looks in favor of staring fixedly at Coach Sturnis, the flying instructor. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff boys were all in one line, and the Slytherin and Ravenclaw boys in another, so each of them stood opposite a member of another house. Harry was facing a slight Ravenclaw boy by the name of Anthony Goldstein, whose ears stuck out comically from under his close-cropped hair.

"Good morning class," the white-haired instructor called out.

"Good morning, Coach Sturnis," the Hufflepuffs responded cheerfully. A few of the other students made polite remarks, but Harry noted Malfoy's derisive sneer, and anger bubbled through her. This was the boy who had so angered her father, the boy who had both his parents at his beck and call, the boy whose father had sneered at _her_ mother's death. And he thought himself better than everyone else, felt that he had no reason to be here. Harry knew that, however great a Quidditch player may be, there was always room for improvement.

The teacher nodded. "Everyone stick your wand hand over your brooms, and say 'Up'." Harry did as instructed, and her broom flew into her hand with a resounded _thwap_. It was one of the few that did, the others being Malfoy, another Slytherin named Blaise Zabini, and, to everyone's surprise, a Hufflepuff named Justin Finch-Fletchly. Neville's had risen an inch before falling back to the ground. Distinctive laughter from Neville's other side told Harry that something had happened to either Ron or Dean - Seamus' laugh could be picked out from a crowd with ease, it's tone rough and slightly barking, like a fox. Ignoring her other three roommates, she spoke to Neville.

"You've got to be firm," she told him. "It will respond better if you're not afraid or hesitant." With Harry's helpful advice, Neville wasn't the last to get his broom into his hands, although he only beat Anthony Goldstein, who was also listening to Harry's advise, by a few seconds.

"Excellent," Coach Sturnis continued once all the students quieted down. "Everyone mount their brooms, and on my whistle, kick off. Hover for five seconds, then touch back down." He lifted his silver whistle, made in the shape of a broomstick, and counted down. "Three, two - ". Before he could reach 'one', Neville's broom started to rise, vibrating heavily. "Touch down, boy!" Coach Sturnis barked. Neville's panicked face turned white as the broom continued to rise steadily until he was well over five feet up. Suddenly, he slipped sideways and fell, landing on his wrist with a loud crack.

The Slytherin's broke into derisive laughter as the flying instructor pushed through the crowd. "Move aside!" he called as he thrust his way between Crabbe and Goyle, nearly knocking Malfoy over. He crouched beside Neville, who hadn't moved. Harry stood still, eyes wide. She'd never seen anyone fall off a broom before. It was a foreign concept to her - never once in her years of flying around the property had she even acknowledged the risk that flying could pose. "Oh, dear," Coach Sturnis sighed. "Broken wrist. Hospital Wing for you, boy." He stood, supporting most of Neville's weight. His eyes narrowed as he glared at the class. "If I find that any one of you has so much as hovered an inch above the ground in my absence, you'll be expelled before you can say 'Quidditch'!" he warned. With that, he turned and half-lead, half-carried Neville into the castle.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Malfoy spoke out. "Did you see him, the great lump!" he crowed. "Couldn't even hover without nearly killing himself! And he calls himself a pure-blood. Squib, more like it!"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ron snarled.

"Got a crush, Weasel?" Malfoy sneered, the other Slytherin's snickering rudely behind him.

"Look what he dropped!" Malfoy stooped down, then quick rose up, the Remembrall Neville's Gran had sent clutched in his fingers.

"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry said, stepping forward with more bravado than she really had. She felt more than heard another of her roommates stepping up behind her, and from the scent of burnt hair knew it to be Seamus. A warm glow suffused her stomach - it was nice to know she could count on someone besides herself. It puzzled her that Ron hadn't been the one to back her, but quickly realized, with a small pang of regret, that he had forgotten her in favor of Dean. Seamus and Dean also hung out together, but Neville got on with Seamus well enough, especially when discussing plants that had anything to do with fire.

"No," Malfoy replied with a malicious smirk. "I think I'll put it somewhere for him to find it." He swung a leg over his broom. "The roof, perhaps," he added, kicking off. In a flash, Harry swung her own leg over her broom.

"No!" Anthony cried out, stepping forward. "You can't! You could get expelled." The other Ravenclaws nodded in agreement.

"So?" Harry snapped. "Friendship is more important." She pulled her sleeve from Anthony's grasp and kicked off. She cursed the school broom as it shuddered under her touch. Fred and George had been right - the school brooms were so old that the enchantments were wearing off.

Harry folded herself down to the broom handle and sped up as much as she could. Either her broom was in better condition, or her smaller size allowed it to travel faster, as Harry caught up to Malfoy, who looked surprised for a moment at her perfect flying.

"Give it here!" Harry repeated, hovering in Malfoy's path. He had to veer to the side to avoid crashing into her, and Harry faintly heard a collective gasp from the rest of the class before the wind pushed it away.

"I don't think so, Potter," Malfoy repeated, his hand clenching around the glass orb.

"Give it here, or I'll knock you off your broom." She narrowed her eyes, and Malfoy's reflexive glance over his shoulder made her feel slightly better. "Not so brave without your body guards," she pointed out. Malfoy seemed to have reached the same conclusion, because he pulled up and away from her.

"If you want it, go get it!" he shouted, and with a tremendous heave, sent the Remembrall soaring through the air. Time seemed to slow down as Harry's green eyes tracked the sparkling glass orb, which reflected the sparse sunlight at every rotation. She flattened herself to her broomstick handle and took off after it, diving towards the ground. All she knew was the wind whistling past her ears, the broom under her hands, and the Remembrall which sparkled, just out of reach.

Only a few feet above the ground, Harry reached out and caught the glass orb in her right hand, pulling up on the broom handle with her left at the same time. She tumbled gently to the ground, Remembrall clutched triumphantly in her fist. "I got it!" she called out to the class, which was watching her dumbfounded. The Gryffindors let out a wild cheer and pelted towards her, brooms forgotten on the grass, the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws close behind. Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins glared daggers at her as her housemates clapped her on the back. Only the Ravenclaws had looks of disapproval, although a few of them sported looks of amazement.

"Mr. Potter!" a stern voice called out. The congratulations died and the students made a path for Professor McGonagall. "Mr. Potter," she repeated. "Follow me." Heart sinking down to the very bottom of her stomach, Harry followed after Professor McGonagall, Coach Sturnis's words ringing through her ears. _Expelled faster than you can say 'Quidditch'._ She had done it now - she was going to be expelled, and then Alex would be found out too. Her brother would hate her.

Morose at the thought, Harry didn't pay attention to where Professor McGonagall was leading her. To her surprise, they ended up outside the Charms classroom. "Wait here," Professor McGonagall commanded. Harry barely had time to nod before her head of house opened the door and called into the classroom. "Filius, may I borrow Wood, for a moment?" Harry could hear her ask. She wondered if Wood was a punishment - an enchanted pointer, maybe?

Instead, a burly brown-haired boy followed Professor McGonagall out of the classroom. Harry paled - it was the boy from Quality Quidditch Supplies, and the dormitory stairs after she and Ron had argued. The teachers must have found her out! "Follow me," Professor McGonagall said again. Harry and Wood trailed behind her, the older boy sending curious glances at Harry, who was too wrapped up in worrying to realize how he scrutinized her, taking in the rectangular spectacles, and the way her hands were wrapped around a broomstick and a Remembrall, respectively. Neither of them spoke as they marched behind their head of house. She lead them to her classroom.

"Sit," she said. They sat, although Wood perched himself insolently on top of the desk, which earned a glare from the teacher which he ignored. "Wood," she said, excitement leaking into her voice, something Harry had never heard before. "I've found you a Seeker." Harry's heart seemed to float from her the pit of her stomach up to her ears. She couldn't believe what she'd just heard - McGonagall was recommending her for the Gryffindor House Quidditch Team! "Mr. Potter just caught that thing in his hand from a fifty foot dive," she continued, voice nearly quivering in her excitement.

"Really?" Wood asked, standing up and moving in front of Harry. He pulled her up by the front of her robes and looked her up and down critically. "He's got the right build for it," he started muttering quietly. "Slender and lightweight, better for speed. The glasses may be a problem - too easy to lose in the air. But if he really caught the ball…" he trailed off, a manic glint in his eye. Harry grinned - if she was correct, she'd just found someone else as obsessed with Quidditch as she was.

"I did," she said confidently. "And I can do it again." That seemed to seal the deal.

"He'll need a better broom," Wood said, speaking to McGonagall now. "He can't ride on a school broom - they're rubbish." Professor McGonagall stifled what sounded suspiciously like a snort of amusement.

"I'll take care of it," she said, regaining her usual composure. "I'll speak with Albus - I'm sure he'll understand." Her eyes too gleamed with enthusiasm. "Potter," she snapped, her mood changing like a Bludger changes direction. "As glad as I am to have found a decent Seeker, you will still be punished. Detention for a week with Madam Pomfrey, doing whatever she needs. You'll start tonight at seven." Harry nodded, too elated to care.

"Thank you, Professor!" she all-but squealed.

Professor McGonagall had an amused smile on her face as she bid the two students goodbye. Out in the corridor, Wood pulled Harry aside into a niche.

"You must be good if McGonagall's going to let you play," he said, eyes aglow. "How much do you know about Quidditch?"

"The basics," Harry answered truthfully. While she'd flown nearly every day for the past three years, she'd never once even held a Quaffle or a Snitch. "I've never played before."

Wood's eyebrows rose. "Never? So that was your first time on a broom?" He looked both amazed and excited at the same time.

"No," Harry said with a small laugh, twisting from Wood's strong grip. "I've flown almost daily for three years. Just never with others or with the Quidditch balls." A small amount of excitement left Wood's face but his grin stayed.

"So you've never once chased a Snitch?" he asked.

"No," Harry replied, hoping it wouldn't count against her.

"Excellent!" Wood was nearly hopping on the spot. "First practice is this Friday - no tryouts needed anymore now that we've got you. The rest of the team is returns or last year's reserves." He left her there, rubbing his hands together and muttering to himself as he headed back to the Defense classroom.

* * *

_**Sept. 3  
Dear Son, **_

_**I am most pleased that you have been sorted into Gryffindor House. As you know, it was my House  
**__**when I attended Hogwarts. Be sure to mind Professor McGonagall; she is an extremely competent witch  
and an even better professor. Study hard, and don't forget to write your sister. She seemed quite upset  
at being sent away from you yesterday morning when I said goodbye, and I'm sure she'd love to hear  
from you.**_

_**Love,**_

_**Your Father**_

* * *

_Sept. 11  
Dear Alex,_

_Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can't thank you enough for coming up with the plan! I made the Quidditch  
Team! Oh, and I'm a Gryffindor, too, and I'm sorry I didn't write earlier. We agreed not to write too often, but this  
was just too important! Classes are good, and none of the teachers suspect. You might not remember, but there  
was a family in Diagon Alley with a bunch of red-haired kids. Two of them, twins, somehow figured it out, but  
have promised not to tell. In fact, they're giving me tips! The only downside is that I have to get books from the  
library for them, since they've been banned. And this library is __amazing__. You might not appreciate it as much, since  
they don't have any novels like at home, but I absolutely love it. Thousands and thousands and thousands of  
books; more information than I could ever go through in my lifetime, let alone the next seven years. _

_I wish you were here with me, sometimes. Neville Longbottom, the boy who would have been our god-brother, is  
my closest friend. I thought it would be Ron Weasley, but he's taken to hanging with Dean and Seamus. I think  
he's jealous of me. My favorite class so far is Transfiguration, but only because the Defense professor is absolute  
rubbish and the Potions professor hates me, but I can't figure out why. Tell me all about Asclepius, and again, thank  
you._

_Love,_

_Harry_

_P. S. Dad wrote to me, but I can't write back without him recognizing my handwriting. Did you get a letter from him  
too? In either case, please send him a note, just something simple. He told you to study hard and to write me, and  
offered his congratulations on making Gryffindor.  
_

* * *

_**Sept. 13  
Harry -**_

_**Congrats on making the team; I know it's the main reason you agreed to our separation. I didn't think  
first years were allowed to play. I knew you would be Gryffindor, though; after all, we're twins and I  
can't imagine they'd separate us. And please be more careful what you write. I don't remember the  
red-haired family, but I was a bit distracted with that book you got for me. (Good choice, by the way.)  
Do you trust the twins? Will they tell? Do whatever you need to do to keep them on your side; I don't  
need to tell you what would happen if Father found out. Plus, I like it here.**_

_**I don't care what you say about the Hogwarts library, this one is even better. It takes up an entire tower  
- all ten stories. And the top floor is dedicated solely to novels, so it definitely beats Hogwarts. Not that I  
have much time to read. The classes are really difficult, even though you probably wouldn't have any  
problems. Trying to teach myself Astronomy is really hard, but my best friend Jonah Walters is helping me  
a lot. He's American, from Florida, and grew up on a boat! But he knows the stars really well. **_

_**My favorite class is Charms, which is good because I have to get an O on both the O.W.L. and the N.E.W.T.  
exams in order to graduate a Curse Breaker. I can't wait to see you this summer. We have so much to share!  
About Dad - I sent him a note thanking him and telling him that I wrote you. I also added that I made the  
Quidditch team, and that my best friend is Neville Longbottom. Nothing too complex. Like we agreed, I kept  
the lies simple - basically just what you told me, so it's the truth, in a way. Write him in a couple of days. You  
can tell him about the library and how much you like Transfiguration and Potions. Keep it simple. Fly safe.**_

_**- Alex  
**_

* * *

_Sept. 14  
Dear Father, _

_Asclepius is fun, I think. I miss you and Alex, especially Alex. I got his letter this morning. He sounds like he's having fun  
in Gryffindor. I wish I could be there with him. I haven't really met anyone here that I like yet. There's a boy, Jonah Walters,  
from America, who seems all right. He's helping me learn Astronomy at night. The library here is really spectacular. It has  
its very own tower, all ten stories! My best classes are Potions and Transfiguration. I'm the best in my class at both. Charms  
is a bit difficult for me, but I know it's an important subject. I just wish it was more like Transfiguration. Transfiguration is  
just so __simple__. Although one boy did manage to set his desk on fire by accident. Anyways, I've got to go!_

_Love,_

_Harry_


	5. Chapter 5

The detentions with Madam Pomfrey weren't as bad as Harry had expected them to be. The no-nonsense matron set her to doing simple tasks - folding sheets, making beds, sorting through old potions to check if they were still viable, and, once, helping her tend to a fourth year who'd managed to explode a cauldron after-hours. All without magic, of course, which had stymied her at first: she'd very rarely done any cleaning of her own, what with the house elves at Potter Manor and took offense whenever she so much as tried to make her bed herself.

* * *

Fred and George caught up to her the day after her first detention while she was working on homework with Neville in the common room - she knew that they would find out, since they were the team Beaters. With conspiratorial winks, they congratulated her on getting so far on her master plan in such a short amount of time. Neville had only watched, confused, his Remembrall set firmly in front of him on a handsome wooden stand that Harry had Transfigured from three matchsticks with copious help from Professor McGonagall, who had been only too pleased to have her most talented first year showing extra interest in the subject, especially one who might be the ticket to Gryffindor winning the Quidditch Cup for the first time in seven years.

In fact, the only thing that hampered her building excitement for Friday was Malfoy. The blonde had been smug on Wednesday morning, calling through the hall, "Enjoying your last meal, Potter?" She hadn't deigned to reply, and had smirked at him when she joined the Slytherins for Defense Against the Dark Arts later that day. Since then, Malfoy had been glowering at her whenever they saw each other, and had taken to insulting her irritatingly untamable hair and skinny build, even going so far as to mention her mother. Despite her best efforts to ignore him, Neville had had to hold her back in the corridor after Malfoy had insulted her mother.

* * *

Friday morning was the worst in terms of non-verbal assault. She had only just managed to catch the daffodil root Malfoy sent towards her cauldron, which would have resulted in an explosion and could have very likely killed her. Snape had turned a blind eye, and, from Harry's perspective, actually seemed disappointed that it hadn't connected.

After dinner, Harry made her way to the Quidditch pitch. Wood wasn't there yet, so she opened the broom cupboard with a spell she'd looked up while waiting for Neville to finish his Charms essay in the library. After five minute's careful inspection, she pulled the best of the - admittedly shoddy - brooms out and mounted it. As she kicked off, she could feel its inferiority to her own, three-year-old broom back at Potter Manor. She soared and twirled through the air, getting a feel for the slight quirks brought on by age - this particular broom shuddered when climbing too fast, and tended to veer to the right if she didn't keep both hands on the handle.

As the sun set completely, she heard Wood calling her down. She banked and dove straight at him, the wind rushing through her shortened hair. It was a nice feeling, but she wished she hadn't had to cut it - she'd become very used to having long hair, and even nearly two weeks later, she often made aborted motions to fuss with the end of her hair, only she reached for her elbows instead of the tops of her ears. Harry barely pulled out of the dive in time, and the broom vibrated heavily as she pulled up on the handle.

"Excellent, excellent," Wood complemented her, eyeing her speculatively once again. "You need a better broom," he commented as he set a large box down on the grassy field with a rattling thump. "A Cleansweep, or the new Nimbus if we can."

"I've got a broom at home," Harry offered. "I can ask Dad to send it."

"How old?" Wood asked, reaching up to scratch his ear.

"Three years. It's the only broom I'd ever flown on before Tuesday," Harry replied. "And we've got to hurry - I have detention at seven."

"Don't worry about it," Wood replied immediately. "She's expecting you at seven in the morning instead." Harry shrugged - she got up early all the time so it wouldn't be a problem, especially on a Saturday. "And you need a new broom - three years is too old." She nodded, although she felt a pang of sadness at the thought of giving up on her first broom, the one her brother had passed along to her, behind.

"Where's the rest of the team?" she asked, looking around as she realized that they were the only two on the pitch.

"They'll be along in about ten minutes. I just wanted to let you see all the balls first."

"Oh. Okay." She watched as Wood unlocked and opened the box. Inside were four balls. The largest - the Quaffle - was red, and made of leather. It had indentations that made it easier for Chasers and Keepers to grasp, but also gave it a curious flight pattern while in midair. Two of the remaining three were identical, and struggled against the restraints that kept them locked in place: those were the Bludgers. The last, and the smallest, was golden and had wings folded against its sides. Harry leaned forward and reached out her hand before jerking it back.

"May I?" she asked.

"Of course." Wood looked excited just to watch her inspect the Golden Snitch. As she held it in her hand, the wings, also golden, sprung out from its sides and started fluttering madly, like the wings of a hummingbird, so fast that they blurred together. She let it go, then, as it started to dart away, snatched it from the air.

"Nice," Wood said admiringly. "I can see why McGonagall recommended you. Best reflexes I've seen since Charlie Weasley left."

"How long ago was that?" Harry asked. She'd met Percy, Ron, and the twins, but had only heard the names of their elder two brothers, Bill and Charlie.

"Beginning of last year," Wood sighed. "Good thing we found you, or we'd be dead in the air again. We haven't had any good Seeker talent besides Charlie for six years."

"Good thing indeed." Fred and George, closely followed by three other boys, came up to Harry and Wood. "You should've seen him at the feast - caught my drumstick from his seat." The other boys snickered.

"Not like that, you perverts," Fred snapped.

"Although," George said, eyeing the one in the middle, "I wouldn't say no to catching _your_ drumstick." Everyone except Harry laughed at the expression on the other boys face.

"I'm only joking," George protested as the rest of his team, minus Harry and Fred, who were trying their best not to burst out laughing, gave him cautious glances.

"I believe him," Harry said, stepping up and hoping to Merlin she could keep a straight face. "Although I _did_ find him in the first year's bathroom on Monday…" she muttered loud enough for the rest of the team to hear.

"Harry!" George cried, folding his hands over his heart in mock sorrow. "It makes me bleed to hear such sordid accusations from an innocent spirit like yourself!" Now it was the rest of the team's turn to struggle with laughter. Fred gave her an approving smirk as he patted his brother consolingly on his back.

"Don't worry, Georgie," he said. "I don't care if you're gay. I'll name my first son after you." Harry couldn't help it - she burst out howling. If George hadn't caught her, she would have fallen to the ground.

"Hey, leave my Seeker alone!" Wood protested, but he had a smile on his face as well. "Don't go ruining his sitting area." This started the laughter up all over again, although Harry's was slightly more subdued as George gave her a sly wink. She had nearly forgotten that the twins knew her secret.

"All right, enough's enough!" Wood barked out. The other players immediately shut up. "Into the locker rooms and get changed, on the double!" George hoisted Harry over his shoulder and took off with her, ignoring her protests.

"What's this?!" he exclaimed when they finally got to the locker room. "That's not my broom!" The other players snorted at his rather lacking attempt at a joke, but Harry smiled innocently.

"No, but you're welcome to take me for a ride anytime." As the other players gaped at her, Fred and George included, she added sweetly. "Once you've found your broom. I'm very sorry you've lost it." The locker room echoed with laughter.

"I think - ," a tall boy with brown hair choked out through his laughter, " - you've finally - " another gasp of laughter " - met your match." The other boys could only nod their agreement.

Finally, the laughter died away, although Wood would occasionally snicker, drawing apprehensive and slightly scared looks from the rest of the team as they opened their assigned lockers and started to strip.

"Um, Wood?" Harry asked, making sure not to stare at any of the many naked chests.

"Oliver. You're my teammate, so call me Oliver."

"Er - right. Oliver, then. I don't have a uniform or any practice uniforms." Oliver froze with his pants halfway down. He didn't seem to notice, but Harry did and had to fight her instincts to look away. She could only hope the dim lighting prevented the others from seeing her blush.

"Charlie's old ones wouldn't fit you, even if he hadn't taken them with him, the wanker," Oliver mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I'll see what we've got in storage." He kicked his pants off and walked towards a closed door clad only in boxers. After a few minutes, in which Harry studiously avoided the other boys naked bodies (although Fred and George made it difficult at times with their playful shoving one another over), Oliver returned with an armful of clothes.

"Here," he said, dumping them into her arms. "Three practice uniforms and an old game uniform from way back that you can try on. If it fits, we can take the name off and sew yours on." Harry unfolded the game uniform and nearly dropped it. In large block letters, the name 'Black' was emblazoned on the jersey.

"No," she gasped. The others looked at her in surprise.

"What's wrong?" George asked, coming over, Fred close behind.

"This was my godfather's uniform," she managed to get out.

"So?" the compact, blonde-haired chaser said. "You've got a familial connection to it. All the better."

"I never met him," Harry snarled, turning on the chaser, who nearly tripped over himself as he tied his Quidditch trousers. "He disappeared a few months after I was born." The locker room had gone oddly quiet. Everyone knew what she meant when she said disappear.

"D'you want a different one?" Oliver asked, reaching over to take the uniform back.

"No!" Harry pulled the fabric to her chest. "I'm keeping it." The others shrugged and returned to getting dressed, even Fred and George, although they did cast worried glances at her. She ignored them and gently set the old uniform aside. Forcing herself to act natural, she stripped off her clothes until she wore only her boxers. She couldn't help but compare her body to those of the other boys - her legs were skinnier, her waist more slender, and her shoulders had no definition whatsoever. As she pulled on the white skintight shirt, and then the red practice jersey, which had no name on it, she worried about what would happen once she hit puberty - there was no way she would be able to disguise her body then.

"Everyone ready?" Oliver called out. Harry shoved her worries from her mind - she'd deal with it once it happened. Quickly, she pulled on the Quidditch trousers, and then paused.

"What sort of shoes do we wear?"

"Damn," Oliver swore. "What size are you?"

"Umm…the smallest you have?" It came out as a question. The other boys looked at her. "I have small feet," she said defensively.

"You have small _everything_," the olive-skinned chaser commented with a wry smile. He spoke with an odd accent that Harry couldn't place. His remark was true, though, especially when she compared herself to her other team members. She was easily the shortest, skinniest, and least-muscled of the lot. She knew she would have a hard time explaining her lack of muscles in the coming years.

"Accio shoe size five." Oliver's voice broke through the snickers. Within a minute, a box zoomed around the corner and halted in front of Oliver, who grabbed it and handed it to Harry. "Don't lose them," he warned. "You'll have to pay for them if you do. And that goes for your uniforms as well." Harry nodded and sat down. As she worked the shoes, which were a little loose, onto her feet, Oliver introduced her to the three Chasers.

"This is Ryan Henry," he said, indicated the tall brunette. "He's a fourth year, as is Zakir." The olive-skinned boy grinned at her, flashing white teeth. "Aiden here was our reserve last year. He's just a year ahead of you." The blonde boy nodded seriously at her, but his hazel eyes sparkled with excitement as he gripped his broom, a Nimbus 1700, previously one of the best racing brooms on the market until the newer Nimbus 2000 replaced it. "And you already know me and the twins, so that's it." Harry nodded. "Let's go," Oliver said, shouldering his broom, also a Nimbus 1700, but with a slightly different logo on it than Aiden's.

Harry thought the practice went well. Fred and George had set up a sort of gauntlet with the Bludgers, and each of the other players had to fly through it without getting hit. Harry had a near miss her first go around, and Oliver had made her fly it three more times, even though she emerged unscathed the second time. After that, they focused on the Chasers, who worked seamlessly together. At times, Harry couldn't keep track of the Quaffle as it blurred between hands. And Oliver himself was an excellent Keeper. Just from watching him, Harry could tell that he was spectacular - everything she'd read about Keepers seemed personified in him. He was incredibly agile, and seemed to have a third sense as to which hoop the Quaffle would head for. Harry herself was put through her paces. Since it was too dark to use the actual Snitch, Oliver had all of the rest of her teammates throw Muggle golf balls through the air. She didn't miss a single one.

As they walked back to the changing room, pleasantly tired, Oliver couldn't keep the grin off his face. "Give me two weeks, and we'll have the best team in Hogwarts!" he crowed, carelessly stripping off his clothes. Harry turned to her locker just in time to miss the boxers joining the rest of the clothes.

"Going to shower with us, Harry?" George asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Never with you, you lecherous pedo," she shot back, not once letting her eyes stray from her locker. The rest of the team laughed, George included.

"Ah, well," he sighed melodramatically. "You'll never know what you're missing."

"I never _want _to know what I'm missing," Harry corrected. "And I'll shower in the tower, I think, right before bed." The other boys shrugged.

"See you tomorrow!" Aiden called after her as she trudged from the changing room, hands stuffed in her robes pocket.

* * *

Oliver kept to his promise of making the best Quidditch team at Hogwarts, and scheduled practices four times a week. With the addition of the Quidditch practices to her schedule, time flew by faster than ever. Ron, upon discovering she had made the team, stopped speaking to her altogether, even to ask for help in Transfiguration, his worst subject. Harry ended up partnering with Neville in Potions whenever a partner was needed. Snape seemed to like having both of his least favorite students working together, although he became frustrated quickly when their potions always turned out perfectly even though it took quite a bit of effort on Harry's part to keep Neville from melting their cauldron. Only Hermione had results as good as theirs, and she didn't have to put up with Neville's unfortunate ineptitude.

The week after her first practice, Wood showed up at her dorm with a Nimbus Two Thousand. "McGonagall got special permission from the Headmaster," he said, grinning excitedly. "Slytherin won't know what hit them." He shoved the broom into a gaping Harry's hands and strutted up the stairs to his room, doubtlessly ready to make up new plays. The entire Gryffindor House had been charged, upon pain of the Weasley twins, to keep mum about Harry's position as Seeker. Oliver wanted to keep Harry's new status a secret as long as possible.

* * *

_**Sept. 19  
Dear Harriet, **_

_**I am glad to hear you're doing well at Asclepsius Academy. It took years of me applying for  
**__**you to get a spot. Keep studying those Charms. Transfiguration should come easily to you, as  
it was my best subject at school as well. Your mother was quite advanced at Potions, as well  
as Charms. I'll try to find something to help you in Charms, but it may be a while. Work is  
very demanding right now. I don't believe your brother told you, but he made the Gryffindor  
Quidditch Team. He hasn't told me which position he plays yet. Unfortunately, I don't believe  
I'll be able to get away from work to watch him fly. I am so very proud of him.**_

_**Your Father,**_

_**James**_

* * *

_Sept. 20  
Dear Alex, _

_Dad finally got back to me. He's going to ask you about which position you play. It's Seeker. And you  
got a new broom from the school, a Nimbus 2000. You wouldn't believe how well it flies. I hadn't even  
noticed how slow that beginner broom at home is until I flew the Nimbus! We need to find a better  
way to communicate over the summer. Letters are too difficult and take too long._

_The twins names are Fred and George, in case you were wondering. I had to get a bunch of books for_  
_them on Color-Changing Charms, something you may find interesting. I am actually very impressed_  
_with them, even if I won't ever say so to their faces. Color-Changing Charms are fifth-year curriculum,_  
_sometimes even sixth, and they're only in their third year! I'm thinking that they're like you, and_  
_Charms is their best subject._

_Use a different owl next time, please, like I am. After all, it's not fair for us to only use the same one all_  
_the time - poor thing actually glares at me whenever I walk into the Owlery! The first Quidditch match is_  
_November 23, in case Dad asks. Your teammates are Oliver Wood, Keeper and Captain; Fred and George_  
_Weasley, Beaters; and the three Chasers are Zakir Akran, Ryan Henry, and Aiden O'Connor. Other names_  
_you may need to know: Professor Flitwick, Charms, Head of Ravenclaw; Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration,_  
_Head of Gryffindor; Professor Snape, Potions, Head of Slytherin; Professor Sprout, Herbology, Head of_  
_Hufflepuff; Professor Sinistra, Astronomy; Professor Binns, History of Magic; Coach Sturnis, Flying Instructor;_  
_Madam Pomfrey, school nurse; Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster. I don't think the names of your teachers_  
_will be as much of an issue since Dad didn't go there. Oh, and Hagrid is the grounds-keeper. He knew Mum and_  
_Dad pretty well, apparently. Good luck with astronomy, and tell Jonah that your brother says hi!_

_Love,_

_Harry_


	6. Chapter 6

Harry was so busy with class, homework, helping Neville, and Quidditch, that Halloween seemed to have snuck up on her. By that time, she and Ron had completely lost whatever friendship they had once had. Harry spent most of her time with Neville or the Weasley twins, and Ron was never seen without Dean and Seamus. Harry had been used several times by the twins as an alibi, and had checked out at least ten books from the library for them. She'd had to search their room for the latest set in order to return them on time, something she hoped she'd never have to do again since walking in their room was like trying to navigate a prank mine-field while wearing a blindfold . On occasion, they'd even used her to set up pranks for them - usually while they were in detention so that they couldn't be blamed. The only downside to her helping the twins out was that the teachers - and Filch - would sometimes regard her suspiciously, even though she knew she'd not once slipped up and left a clue to indicate that it was _her_ who had slipped the dungbombs into all of the girl's loos or tracked bright purple and orange paint all over the corridor leading to the library (including the ceiling).

* * *

Halloween dawned surprisingly sunny, although gusty winds kept the weather cool. Transfiguration was spent turning beetles into buttons, and Harry had fun making different patterns, much to Hermione's frustration as the other girl could only manage a plain black.

Charms, however, was much more to Hermione's liking. Over the course of the two months Harry had spent at Hogwarts, she had discovered that Hermione was much better at Charms than she was, no questions asked. Hermione was still disgruntled, however, that Harry could beat her hands down at Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and hold her own in Potions. At breakfast one day, Harry had overheard Professor McGonagall telling the Headmaster that Harry had inherited both her Father's skills at Transfiguration and her Mother's innate talent in Potions. She had gone the rest of the day with a euphoric feeling radiating from her chest, and had vowed then and there to be best in her class at both.

Professor Flitwick had been going over wrist movements for the entire two weeks before Halloween, and the entire class was eager to try the spell, which would make objects float.

"Remember that nice swish-and-flick motion we've been practicing," the tiny professor squeaked from atop his stack of books." He demonstrated the motion easily. "And don't forget the incantation, Wingardium Leviosa. Enunciate the vowels!" He flicked his wand, which was abnormally long for his small stature, and a feather appeared in front of each pair of students. Harry had been teamed up with Seamus, Neville with Dean, and Ron, to his immense horror, with Hermione Granger.

As she and Seamus took it in turns to try and get the feather to float, Harry could hear Hermione scolding Ron. "…stop waving your arms like that! You'll put someone's eye out! And besides, you're saying it wrong. It's Levi_o_sa, not Levio_sa_." Harry took her advice, and to her surprise, the long white feather she and Seamus had been practicing on floated a few inches off the table before gently drifting back.

"Nice one," Seamus said appreciatively, waving his own wand in an attempt at the charm, but Harry was still listening to Hermione and Ron's blossoming argument.

"You try, then, if you're so clever," Ron sneered. Harry winced. With Hermione's skills at Charms, there was no way it wasn't going to work.

She turned in her seat to watch, and Seamus copied her motions. They watched together as Hermione rolled up her sleeves, cleared her throat, and said, in a precise voice. "Wingardium Levi_o_sa." With a swish and flick of her wand, the feather, a brown eagle owl from the looks of it, started to rise through the air at Hermione's direction.

"Well done, well done!" Professor Flitwick applauded. "Look here, class, Miss Granger's done it!" Hermione beamed, and Harry had to admit that she had a right to - without her advice, she doubted she would have been able to make the feather do anything so soon. Hermione was a natural at Charms, just as Harry was at Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Ron scowled and put his head on his stacked fists, refusing to so much as look at his partner.

As they exited the Charms classroom, Harry and Neville stayed with Dean and Seamus and Ron, even though Harry and Ron still hadn't really talked to each other besides a curt "Good morning" and "Good night" each day.

"She's a nightmare!" Ron complained loudly as they entered the courtyard on their way to the Great Hall for lunch. "It's no wonder she hasn't got any friends." Someone knocked into Harry's shoulder, and she caught a glimpse of a tear-streaked face surrounded by bushy brown hair.

"I think she heard you," Harry said softly, watching Hermione run off.

"So what - it's true" Ron said defiantly, but Harry thought he looked slightly uncomfortable as he said it.

* * *

That night, Harry sat in between Fred and Neville, with Lee and George opposite them. The Great Hall was decorated so festively that Harry hardly even recognized it. Thousands of live bats flitted around the room, obscuring the eerie black and purple ceiling, and pumpkins that could fit a grown man inside them had been carved and filled with candles. The tables were packed with all sorts of sweets and candies, and the House banners had all been changed to orange and black.

As Fred served Harry a large slice of pumpkin spice cake, she realized that she hadn't seen Hermione all afternoon.

"Where's Hermione?" she asked Neville, who was happily, if messily, eating a candied apple.

"In the second-floor loo," Parvati answered from Neville's other side, leaning around him to better see Harry. "She's been in there, crying, all afternoon," she whispered. "She won't tell anyone _why_, though," she added with a slight frown. Harry had to sympathize with Hermione - she was extra glad she had escaped rooming with the Gryffindor girls. All the gossip would have driven her mad.

"I'll go take her some cake," she said, placing the slice Fred had just served her in a napkin and standing up. "It's not right that she should miss the Halloween feast over a stupid remark." Parvati perked up at the mention of a possible reason for Hermione's crying jag, but Harry didn't elaborate.

"Want to come?" she asked Neville.

"Err. She's in a _girls_ bathroom," the boy pointed out.

"So?" Harry asked defiantly. "It's not like anyone's going to be around to notice."

"Exactly," Fred agreed, nodding sagely. "As long as you're not caught, anything goes."

"Just so, brother mine," George agreed. Harry looked at them, but they shook their heads. "We're not coming - this particular assortment of sweets won't be seen again 'till next year," George explained seriously.

"We've made a study," Fred added, equally straight-faced. Harry shrugged and left down the aisle between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, ignoring the stares she attracted as she left the feast.

As Harry navigated her way to the second floor, she thought about Hermione's life so far at Hogwarts, and found herself pitying the other girl. She berated herself for not being nicer, although the bossiness did make it difficult. _Even so_, she told herself, _no-one deserves to be alone all the time, especially on a holiday like Halloween_.

During her first month at Hogwarts, Harry had forced herself to learn where all of the girls bathrooms were - just in case - and 'helping' Fred and George had only cemented the knowledge. Now, she used that knowledge and headed straight to the only working girls bathroom on the second floor. The other loo on the second floor, as all of the girls knew, was Moaning Myrtle's.

"Hello?" Harry called through the door. "Hermione? Are you there?"

"Go away." Hermione's voice was raw from crying.

"Look, I'm sorry for what Ron said," Harry continued, stepping in and following the sound of quiet sniffles. "He's an insensitive prat and is most likely just jealous."

"What do _you_ know?" Harry smiled to herself - at least Hermione was getting defensive now.

"You're talking to Harry Potter, who, according to Ron, is an attention-seeking know-it-all. Almost the same as what he says about you, actually." Casually, Harry leaned up against a sink. "I've got a slice of cake," she said. "It'll make you feel better. Sweets always make you feel better - isn't that what girls say?" Harry knew she had to do _something_ to help cover her tracks. She was being entirely too sympathetic for the typical eleven-year-old boy.

Finally, the middle door opened and Hermione stepped out. Her hair was the frizziest Harry had ever seen it, and her eyes were red and swollen from crying. Harry didn't say anything, just held out the cake. Gingerly, Hermione took it.

"Thanks," she said, still sniffing a little. "You're awfully nice for a boy."

"I try," Harry said, waving the complement off as she had seen Alex do. As Hermione started on the cake, Harry spoke again. "Look, I'm really sorry for not being nicer - "

"It's all right," Hermione interrupted. "I'm used to a lot worse. Back at my old school people called me all sorts of horrible names." Her eyes started to tear up again, but she kept going. "And so when I got the letter, I promised myself to be less of a know-it-all, but then I was just so _excited_ and I couldn't help myself and then you were actually _challenging_ me in Transfigurations and Potions and you understood Defense Against the Dark Arts better than I did and I just don't want to be _stupid_."

Harry waited for her to take a breath before cutting in. "It's fine," she said. "Let's just forget it and start over. Friends?" She offered the dumbfounded girl her hand. Hermione ignored it and flung herself at Harry, who stumbled as she caught the other girls hug, the half-eaten cake dropping to the floor. "Geez!" Harry managed to get out.

"Yes, yes! I'll be the best friend you've ever had!"

"Might be kinda hard," Harry warned, rubbing her ribs when Hermione let her go. "I've got a twin."

"Oh." Hermione thought for a moment. "Well, I'll be the best friend you've ever had that's not related to you."

Harry smiled. "Neville won't be happy. Well, maybe he will. You're scads better at Charms than I am."

"Oh. Does he need help?" Hermione looked pleased at the thought.

"He always asks me, so you shouldn't be too different," Harry said. "Why don't you wash up and we can go ask him ourselves." Hermione did as suggested, and together they headed towards the door.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione shrieked. "You'll get in trouble! This is a _girls_ bathroom!"

"Everyone's at the feast, Hermione," Harry said. "And I've done worse in the past two months than be caught in a girl's bathroom." Fred and George hadn't been joking when they'd said she owed them. Harry shuddered - if Snape ever found out…

Hermione looked slightly horrified. "But - you're such a good student!"

"Good student doesn't necessarily mean model behavior." They reached the door, and a funny smell hit Harry's nose. "What that smell?" she asked, reaching for the handle.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "It's a bit…moldy, don't you think?"

Harry opened the door, and let out a very girly shriek before slamming it shut again. "Go, go!" she yelled. "Get back!" Hermione just stared at her, so Harry grabbed her arm and pulled her to the very back of the room. They had only barely gotten into the corner when the door smashed open, splinters flying all over the room. The smell intensified, and Hermione let out her own shriek of terror at the large, ugly troll that lumbered through the door.

"What is it?" she whimpered.

"Mountain troll," Harry answered faintly, watching as the troll sniffed the air. She wondered how it could smell anything over its own putrid stench.

"What do we do? What do we do?" Hermione asked in a high-pitched, panicked voice. Harry shook her head, lost for words.

"I don't even know how it got in. They're supposed to be really stupid." The troll took a heavy step in their direction, and Hermione grabbed Harry's arm with both hands.

"Get off," Harry said, shaking her arm to make the other girl let her go. "I'm thinking." She pulled out her wand, and thought over all the spells she knew she could cast. Desperate, she pointed her want at one of the larger pieces of the door and used the very first spell she'd learned in Transfiguration. "Acumuto," she nearly yelled, and watched in fascination as the piece of wood shimmered as it turned into a giant needle, slightly larger than the length of her arm. She picked it up with her left hand, surprised at how heavy it was.

The floor trembled as the troll took another step forward, and Harry was jolted from her inspection of her enormous needle. "Back!" she yelled, lunging forward and stabbing the troll's leg. It roared angrily and took a swipe at her and Hermione with its large, knobby club. Harry just managed to push Hermione out of the way, but her needle-sword was knocked from her hand as the club whooshed overhead. The club collided with two of the three sinks, and water sprayed into the air as the pipes broke, porcelain shards flying like small daggers across the room.

"I don't want to die, I don't want to die!" Hermione moaned, her eyes squeezed shut.

"You're not going to die!" Harry hissed as she stood up, wand raised before her. A flashback of that mornings' Charms lesson darted through her head. _It's Levi_o_sa, not Levio_sa_._ With a swish and flick of her wand, Harry directed the spell at the trolls' club and bellowed "Wingardium Leviosa!" at the top of her lungs. She watched in awe as the troll swung its fist again, but the club stayed where it had been, hovering in the air. Concentrating, Harry directed the club to rise up to the ceiling directly above the troll's head. The mountain troll looked at its' fist stupidly, then turned its' head wildly from side to side, trying to find its weapon. Finally, it looked up, just in time to get a brief glance of its club, right before it landed directly between its eyes.

"MOVE!" Harry yelled, grabbing Hermione's wrist and dragging her out of the path of the falling troll. They barely made it to safety before the troll landed, but lost their footing in the resulting shaking its massive body caused. Harry landed squarely on her Transfigured needle, and she took it in her hand as she helped Hermione to her feet.

"Is it…dead?" Hermione asked, freeing her hand from Harry's and peering fearfully at the troll.

Harry stepped forward and leaned over the troll. "I don't think so," she said. "Just knocked out." She strengthened her grip on her needle-sword and started towards the door. "We should get out of here before it wakes up." Hermione nodded fervently and jogged over. They had barely made it past the troll's feet when a panting Professor McGonagall appeared in the doorway.

"Oh, my," was all she seemed able to say as she took in the fallen troll, Harry with her make-shift sword, and a terrified, slightly bloody Hermione. Her hand fluttered towards her wand but she didn't draw. At that moment, Professors Snape, Flitwick, Sprout, and Quirrell came up behind her. Harry stood silently as Professor Snape's face contorted into a sneer. Flitwick was too busy tying up the troll, and Sprout merely gaped. Professor Quirrell sank weakly onto the nearest seat, which happened to be an overturned toilet. Harry hadn't realized how much of a mess their fight had caused.

"What is the meaning of this!" Professor McGonagall finally managed to get out. "Potter, Granger, why weren't you at the feast with the rest of the students."

"I - I," Harry started, trying to decide if Ron would get in trouble if she told the truth. As roommates, they had an unspoken pact to never get each other in trouble if they could avoid it.

"It was my fault, Professor," Hermione spoke up. Even Snape looked surprised. "I was upset with my Charms work and came in here to practice. Harry came looking for me when he saw I wasn't at the feast - "

"How touching," Snape muttered, but no one paid him any attention.

" - and we were just about to leave when the troll came in." Harry, whose brain had finally caught up, nodded fervently and picked up the story.

"I did the first thing I could think of, and Transfigured a piece of wood into a needle," she said, twitched the needle-sword. Professor McGonagall had a look of pleasant shock on her face as she saw the size of the Transfigured object.

Snape, on the other hand, sneered. "Typical Gryffindor foolishness. It would have been better to Disarm the beast."

"We haven't learned how to do that yet," Harry said calmly, even though inside she was mentally raging at the Potions professor for being such an insensitive wart. "And it didn't really work, anyways," she added wryly. "So I thought back to what Hermione had said in Charms and used a Hovering Charm on its club and knocked it out." Professor Flitwick was now the one with a pleased expression.

"Very well," Professor McGonagall said at last. "Ms. Granger, you would do well to attend feasts in the future. For now, go see Madam Pomfrey and get your cuts tended to." Hermione nodded obediently and left, smiling sheepishly at Harry as she did. Once Hermione's bushy, and now slightly dusty, hair had vanished from the room, McGonagall turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, five points from Gryffindor for not attempting to contact a professor. Every first year knows that one must only touch their wand to the castle walls and call for your Head of House." Harry's mouth opened in a silent 'oh'. "Fifteen points to Gryffindor for excellent use of Transfiguration and Charms-work in a stressful situation." Harry closed her mouth with a snap.

"Th - thank you," she stuttered.

"That's it?" Snape snarled. "No punishment for using magic outside of class or for destroying a bathroom?"

"Severus," Professor Sprout said, speaking for the first time since seeing the troll. "I'm sure you'll agree that a bathroom destroyed is a small price to pay for two students' lives." Snape nodded curtly after a small hesitation. Harry had to wonder what it was the man had against her, since she had never done anything to him (the shoes hadn't been _her_ idea).

"I'm sorry for the bathroom," Harry offered half-heartedly. In truth, she couldn't care less. But Remus, while he'd still been there, had drilled into both her and Alex how important it was to apologize. "Look, I'll clean it up." She frowned, concentration hard on how the bathroom had been before the fight, and before any of the professors could object, made the sweeping motion that accompanied the Mending Charm. "Reparo," she said clearly, and watched with fascination as toilet stalls flew back together, and water stopped spraying as the pipes magically repaired themselves. The needle in her hand strained towards the doors, and when she let it go, it transformed back into a large sliver of wood midair before slotting itself back where it belonged. "That was cool," she said when everything had stopped moving, breaking the silence that seemed extra loud after the loud squelches and clinks of the mending sinks, toilets, and various woodwork.

"Oh, bravo!" Professor Flitwick squealed, the first of the teachers to recover from the shock of seeing such a small child perform a powerful feat of magic. "Ten points to Gryffindor!" Snape looked like he wanted to blow something up. Harry swayed, slightly dizzy from her large expenditure of magic. Professor McGonagall reached out and caught her shoulders, steadying her.

"Mr. Potter," she chided, although a look of immense pride was in her eyes. "That was very foolish of you to attempt such a large undertaking. You could have caused yourself serious harm, especially with the blood loss you have already sustained." Harry looked down, and was surprised to see that she, like Hermione, was covered with multiple shallow lacerations.

"Oh," she said. "I didn't know." Snape snorted in disbelief.

"Regardless," Professor McGonagall continued, "That was very impressive, and the points were well earned. I will walk you to the Hospital Wing for your wounds to be looked at. Filius, Pomona, Severus, take care of the troll." As the three professor moved forward, Harry caught sight of a nasty tear in Snape's trousers, and saw blood seeping from what looked like a giant bite wound. Before she could look closer, Professor McGonagall was sweeping her from the room.

Part-way to the Hospital Wing, Harry panicked - she was going the one place she and Alex had agreed that she should avoid at all costs. The matron, Madam Pomfrey, would be able to tell with a single spell that she was not, in fact, a boy.

"No," Harry said out loud, struggling against Professor McGonagall's grip.

"What is it, Potter?" the Transfiguration teacher asked immediately, concern evident in her voice.

"I can't go there! I can't!" Harry knew she was panicking but couldn't get a hold on her emotions. She was just too tired, and felt like the walls were slowly fading into black.

"Where can't you go, Potter?" Professor McGonagall bent down to look into Harry's eyes. "The Hospital Wing?" she asked softly.

Harry nodded fervently. "I can't go there!" she repeated.

"You have no choice," said Professor McGonagall sternly. "Your wounds need tending."

"No! I can't!" Harry knew she would have to offer something more, so she lied, feeling horrible as she did so. "Mummy died - they couldn't help her! I can't go there!" Professor McGonagall took a step back, shocked beyond words.

"Harry," she said, using Harry's name for the first time. "I'm afraid you have to. Otherwise we'll be obligated to call your father."

Harry knew she was caught - there was no way she could let her father see her; he would know the second he saw her. "No. Don't call Father." She straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, and said, "I'll go." The black at the edges of her vision was starting to get larger, and she had barely taken her first step towards the Hospital Wing before she collapsed to the floor, the darkness swarming over her.

* * *

Harry woke up slowly. She was comfortable and warm and she no longer ached or felt like she had swallowed a gallon of sand. With a large yawn, she turned on her side and snuggled into the cleanly starched blankets. _Starched? _Harry's eyes snapped open and she groped for her glasses. Finding them on the bedside table next to her, she jammed them onto her nose. Her stomach sank as she looked around. She was in the Hospital Wing, the one place she hadn't wanted to go. And, she had arrived unconscious.

Pushing herself upright, Harry picked up her wand, which was also on the bedside table. As she brought it to her lap, her arm muscles screamed at her - she had over-extended herself last night. She inspected her wand - there was a small scratch on the otherwise pristine wood that hadn't been there before.

"Potter." Harry jerked her head up and met the irate eyes of a very stern-faced Madam Pomfrey.

"Madam Pomfrey," Harry replied. After a few seconds, she asked, "What time is it?"

"Six in the morning," the matron answered. Her lips thinned. "And we need to talk." She flicked her wand around them. "Silencing Charm," she stated at Harry's enquiring glance. And then Harry knew that Madam Pomfrey had found her out. Hands on her hips, Madam Pomfrey turned to her. "What are you playing at?" she asked, eyes narrowed. "You are a _girl_. Why on Merlin's good Earth are you dressed as a _boy_?"

After brief hesitation, Harry told the truth. "I want to play Quidditch," she stated boldly. Madam Pomfrey's brows came together in a frown.

"But you're a girl," she blurted out, then clamped her lips together.

"Are - are you going to tell?" Harry made sure to open her eyes wide and to blink up at the older woman.

The look, which worked wonders on her father, seemed to affect the nurse as well. Her features softened infinitesimally as she looked down at Harry. "I won't," she promised. Madam Pomfrey drew herself up proudly. "I took an oath when I took this badge," she said, fingering the crossed wand and bone brooch at her throat. "I divulge no information without the patient's permission."

Harry relaxed. "Thank you."

"I'm not doing it for you, _Mr. _Potter." Madam Pomfrey gave Harry a tight smile before taking down the Silencing Charm and walking away.

"Wait," Harry called after her. "When can I leave?"

"Whenever you like," Madam Pomfrey replied from her office door. "You were fine about four hours ago, and I wanted to speak with you. Besides," she said sniffily, "you were sleeping." She vanished into her chambers.

Harry hopped out of her bed and found her clothes, holey but cleanly washed. With fast, conservative movements, she dressed herself, and then left. The abandoned halls outside were dark and unlit, giving the castle an eerie mood.

The common room was empty, and she made her way up the stairs. In her room, the four boys were asleep, and soft snores permeated the air. With a grateful sigh, Harry dropped her wand on her bed-side table and collapsed on top of the covers without bothering to get undressed. She'd have time for that later.

* * *

Since the incident with the troll was supposed to be secret, the entire school knew some version of what had happened by lunch the next day. Harry was mobbed by boys asking to see her sword (although how they had found out about it was beyond her), and Hermione was bombarded with questions of whether or not she and Harry were dating, especially when she sat with Harry and Neville the next morning. Accordingly, in order to escape the students' hounding, Harry spent as much of her time as possible in the library, where Madam Pince kept out anyone who spoke in a voice louder than a whisper.

Oliver Wood and the Weasley twins hunted her down, the former to make sure she would be fit to play in the first game of the season, nearly a month away, and the latter to congratulate her on successfully making so much chaos. The twins were very impressed with her Transfiguration skills, and proceeded to interrogate her as to which classes were her best subjects. When she told them Potions and Transfiguration, they gave her speculative looks and slunk off, whispering frantically to each other.

* * *

The three and a half weeks until the first match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, were marked by an ever-increasing amount of practices. Towards the end, Harry traipsed out to the Quidditch field every night of the week, and every morning on weekends. She was immensely grateful that Hermione was now her friend; without her, Harry doubted she would have been able to complete her homework on time, and Neville's grades would have suffered dramatically as well. Luckily, Hermione was only too pleased to be able to help her academic rival complete the assignments, although she (rather smugly) refused to do the work for her. Harry was glad - she wanted to do well on her own - but Quidditch came before homework any and every day of the week.

* * *

As Oliver had promised at their very first practice, the Gryffindor House Quidditch Team was the best team at school. They steamrolled Slytherin, ending with a score of 360-40, much to Slytherin's dismay and the crowd's exuberance. The only interesting part of the game was Harry's spectacular dive for the Snitch, where she beat out the Slytherin Seeker by at least three body lengths. Harry felt slightly guilty, as part of what allowed her to fly so much faster was her slimmer body - as a girl, she had nowhere near the body mass of even the lightest boy on the pitch.

As she pulled out of her dive, near the Gryffindor stands, she heard Neville call out, "Nice catch, Harry!", from his spot beside Hermione, who waved and smiled at her as well. Harry waved back, Snitch still clutched in her hand, until Fred and George came and pinned her between their bodies, steering her down towards the locker room. "Party in the common room!" they yelled out together. Those Gryffindors close enough to hear cheered even louder.

* * *

Fred and George's party was nothing like Harry had ever experienced. Girls came up to her and kissed her on the cheeks, praising her for her skills. Harry blushed whenever this happened, to the great amusement of the rest of the team, but only Fred and George knew the real reason why. They purposefully sent girls her way, and she ended up glaring at them over a crowd of admirers, including a very fervent Lavender Brown.

Finally, she'd had enough and managed to escape upstairs to her room. It was empty, so she collapsed onto her bed with a tired sigh. Still in her Quidditch jersey, the one that had belonged to her godfather all those years ago, Harry closed her eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

_Nov. 1_  
_Dear Alex, _

_Yesterday I had a bit of a run-in with a mountain troll in a girl's bathroom. Dad may or may_  
_not be writing you about it, since I think Professor McGonagall notified him that I was injured._  
_Nothing major, just a few scratches and a mild case of magical exhaustion. I Transfigured a_  
_large chunk of wood into a needle, but it was more like a sword. It was useless against the troll,_  
_and I ended up using the Levitation Charm to knock it out with its own club. In case Dad asks._

_Hermione Granger is my friend now. She's a bit bossy and really clever, and doesn't like to be_  
_out-smarted. She was jealous of me for being better than her in Transfiguration and Defense_  
_Against the Dart Arts, and drawing even in Potions. But she's like you and the twins - really good_  
_at Charms. She and Neville just met this morning, and already they get on really well since she_  
_likes to help people and Neville, well, Neville needs help in everything except Herbology. He's_  
_amazing in the greenhouses - the plants grow like nothing else! I think Professor Sprout wants to_  
_adopt him. I'll tell you more about the troll this summer. Give me an update on your classes, please._  
_I'll write Dad so he doesn't get too worried about me. Have you made any new friends besides Jonah?_

_Love,_

_Harry_

* * *

_**Nov. 4**_  
_**Harry - **_

_**I can't believe you fought a troll! That's so cool! I've told all my friends about it and they're**_  
_**super impressed. Of course, they all think you're a boy so they don't know the half of it. I'm**_  
_**glad you're all right, and I won't even ask why you were in a girl's bathroom.**_

_**Thanks for telling me about Hermione. She's sounds nice. I've made two new friends, Simon**_  
_**Fischer and Rémi Lefebvre. Simon was born in America but grew up in South Africa, and Rémi is**_  
_**French. Si is even better than me at Charms, and Rémi is here on scholarship for Potions. Classes**_  
_**are good. We just had our first round of tests, a sort of way to see how we're doing. I've had to**_  
_**sign up for extra lessons for Transfiguration, but I'll tell Dad myself this summer so he can't try and**_  
_**reach McGonagall about it. Everything else is just fine. There aren't very many girls here, just so**_  
_**you know. In the entire first year class, there's only six. The other fifteen of us are boys. I don't**_  
_**know the girls very well, since they tend to stick together. I do know that one of them is named**_  
_**Diana, and there's also one called Birdy, but I don't know what her real name is.**_

_**- Alex**_

* * *

_Nov. 6_  
_Dear Dad, _

_The first round of tests just finished. I did well on everything, although I am still having some_  
_difficulties with Charms. I've made two new friends, Rémi Lefebvre and Simon Fischer. They're_  
_both really nice. Simon is really good at Charms, and Rémi is here on a scholarship for Potions._  
_He's even better than I am! The girls here aren't really personable, maybe because I've only ever_  
_been around boys. Plus there's only seven of us total. Yesterday, Jonah and I were studying the_  
_stars, and I saw a comet!_

_Love,_

_Harry_

* * *

**_Nov. 14_**  
**_Dear Harriet, _**

**_It relieves me to hear that you are making friends, even if they are all boys. Rémi sounds very nice,_**  
**_and maybe you can ask Simon for help in Charms. Jonah seems like a gentleman, and it is very_**  
**_kind of him to help you so much with Astronomy. Give him my regards._**

**_Love,_**

**_Your Father_**

* * *

_Nov. 24_  
_Alex - _

_WE WON THE MATCH! 360 to 40!_

_- Harry_


	7. Chapter 7

The next week passed in a blur of happiness. Gryffindor still hadn't come down from its excitement at beating Slytherin for the first time in three years, and Harry was the star. Even the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws called out congratulations as she passed through the corridors. Harry couldn't stop beaming - she wondered if this was what professional players felt like after they'd won a game.

The only person who seemed to take Gryffindor's win as a personal affront was Professor Snape. In their first Potions lesson after the match, the dour man had forced Harry to start over twice, first claiming that the base for the Befuddlement Draught was too thick, and then, the second go around, that it was too thin. They had been exactly the same both times. Harry just gritted her teeth and said, "Yes, Professor Snape," in her meekest voice, even as thick resentment built up inside her.

On the opposite side of the spectrum from Professor Snape was Professor McGonagall. The strict Scottish woman wouldn't show favoritism in class, but Harry received an invitation on Wednesday morning for tea with the Transfiguration Professor for the upcoming Friday. Hermione, who had taken up Harry's offer of friendship with a vengeance and rarely left her side, could hardly contain her jealousy.

* * *

When Friday rolled around, even Professor Snape's acidic remarks couldn't puncture her good mood. At three thirty, Harry, with the help of Fred and George, made her way through the sun-lit corridors to Professor McGonagall's office. Unlike most of the other Hogwarts staff, Professor McGonagall's office was located away from her classroom. As Deputy Head-mistress, the woman had a special room on the first floor, overlooking the Transfiguration courtyard and the area of lawn used for the first-year's flying lessons.

"Enter!" Professor McGonagall's slightly muffled voice called out when she knocked. After Harry stepped inside, she looked around, taking in the surroundings as she made her way to the cushioned chair waiting for her in front of Professor McGonagall's desk. The chamber was sparsely decorated, yet had a tasteful elegance. All of the furniture - including the multiple book-cases and three decidedly Muggle filing cabinets - were the same dark oak color. The front of Professor McGonagall's desk had ten or twelve small trinkets on it, all animals and all showing some sort of movement, excepting an obsidian statue of a dog.

"The best of my seventh-years work from my time in office," she explained when she saw where Harry's eyes were. "Your father made this one," she said, picking up a wooden stag that pranced on the spot and shook its majestic antlers when she put it on her desk. "I never did understand the significance of the stag, but it was a remarkable piece of Transfiguration." She stared down at it sadly. "It used to run, but the magic seemed to fade a little after your mother died." With a small sigh, she placed it back on the shelf, next to the obsidian dog which was curled up.

"Who made the dog?" Harry asked, curious as to why it wasn't moving.

"Sirius Black," Professor McGonagall said quietly. "He was your father's best friend in school, before he went missing."

"He was my godfather," said Harry, just as quietly.

Professor McGonagall looked up sharply, surprise written on her face. "I did not know." Her face softened. "Although I should have suspected. James would hardly have given the honor to anyone else. Tea?" She tapped her wand on the edge of her desk and immediately a house-elf popped into the room from thin air.

"How may Fritty serve Mistress Deputy McGonagall?" the small elf asked with a curtsy. Fritty was clothed in a well-starched uniform - navy blue pleated skirt, loose white shirt emblazoned with the Hogwarts' crest, and a clean white apron. Her eyes were a deep brown, and a small amount of stringy but well-tended brown hair crowned her green head.

"A spot of tea will be all, Fritty." The house elf curtsied and vanished with a quiet _pop_ of Apparition.

"How can house elves, you know, Apparate inside Hogwarts?" Harry asked, confused. "_Hogwarts, A History_, says that it's impossible."

Professor McGonagall smiled. "That book is incomplete," she said kindly. "It does not mention house elves at all. As for their being able to Apparate? House elf magic is completely different than ours - it is less focused. Think of it as a kind of accidental magic used on purpose." Harry frowned at the juxtaposition of 'accidental' and 'on purpose'.

"I think I understand," she said at last. "They don't have a wand to refine their magic with, so they end up with a sort of wandless magic like young children use to get toys off high shelves, but thats only really good for cleaning and cooking. And Apparition," she added as an afterthought.

"Precisely," Professor McGonagall said with an approving nod. Fritty popped back into the office, a tray laden with the fixings of tea balanced between her head and hands. She stood on her tiptoes to place it on Professor McGonagall's desk.

"Will you's be needing anything else from Fritty?" the creature asked with another small curtsy.

"No, thank you." Fritty disappeared once again. Harry waited while McGonagall poured two cups of tea, then added a lump of sugar and a dash of milk at Harry's direction. McGonagall took hers with lemon.

As they sipped their tea, Professor McGonagall broached a new subject. "How are you liking Hogwarts so far?"

"I love it," Harry answered immediately. "I mean, I miss Alex, and Father too, but it's amazing here. I'm learning so much!"

Professor McGonagall smiled wistfully at her. "I remember the feeling," she said, eyes slightly unfocused. "The Sorting Hat almost placed me in Ravenclaw," she admitted. Harry had to remind herself to keep her mouth closed as she tried to wrap her mind around a Head-of-Ravenclaw Professor McGonagall. "Sometimes," Professor McGonagall continued, a little sharply, "I wonder how you made it into Gryffindor yourself. Not that I'm not pleased, of course," she added. "But you seem like you would fit in well with the Ravenclaws. Your work for all your classes is superb. Only Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom have better marks than you in Charms and Herbology, respectively."

Harry took a long sip before answering. "The Hat wanted to put me in Ravenclaw," she said at last. "But I wanted to be in Gryffindor like Dad and Mum."

"There's nothing wrong with being your own person. Your parents would be proud of you no matter which House you were Sorted into." Harry scoffed quietly - her father would likely have sent her to a different school if she'd been Sorted into Slytherin, even without his knowing that she was Harry and not Alex. She didn't make any comment, taking another drink of tea instead. "You are an invaluable asset to my house," Professor McGonagall continued, "As you would have been to whichever you were Sorted into."

"Thank you," Harry said, unable to think of what else to say to such a lavish compliment from a teacher who, like Snape, rarely praised anyone.

"What is your best class, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked, pouring herself a second cup of tea. Harry turned down a refill.

"Um. After Transfiguration? Defense Against the Dark Arts, I guess. But only because Snape - "

"Professor Snape," McGonagall corrected automatically.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Professor Snape. He doesn't like me very much, so he won't always give me the grade I expect. Do you know why he doesn't like me?" Harry figured that Professor McGonagall, who had obviously taught her father and godfather, must have been around when Snape was.

Professor McGonagall hesitated before answering. "Professor Snape has had a very difficult life," she said at last. "He was the same school year as your parents, and he and your father never liked each other much." The expression on her face led Harry to believe that the professor was understating the matter. "I believe," she ventured cautiously, "That you bring up memories of your father's time here with Severus - that is, Professor Snape. Your hair, your glasses, your talent in the air."

"I don't understand. He doesn't like me simply because he and my father didn't get along?" She'd never had an enemy before, and really didn't have any now (unless one counted the annoying but rather harmless Draco Malfoy) and she couldn't imagine pinning the faults of the father on the child.

"It's a great deal more complicated than that," Professor McGonagall sighed.

"How? Can you tell me, please?" Harry was almost begging. She valued any information about her parents, and yearned to know why Snape didn't like her. She hadn't _done_ anything to him (that he knew about, anyways, and that was the twin's fault).

"Maybe in a few years. Oh, I almost forgot!" Professor McGonagall picked up her wand from where it lay next to a few fat rolls of parchment and Summoned a slender tome from the shelf. "Here," she said, passing the book over. Harry set her teacup down and took the book, eyes automatically lingering on the title, _Transfiguration Lessons for the Newfound Prodigy_.

"For me?" Harry asked, looking up in surprise. She knew she was good, but she wouldn't have ever called herself a _prodigy_. In any case, she hadn't even put much effort into her spell-work. Yes, she did the homework, and better than most other students, but she knew that she could have done better, too. Quidditch just got in the way.

"My Transfiguration professor gave it to me in my second year," Professor McGonagall said, a wistful smile on her face. "It's a fun little book." Harry flipped through it as her professor watched, pausing at the page where a diagram showed the wand-motions for changing a pillow into a kitten. It looked extraordinarily difficult.

"That's really neat," Harry said, closing the book and holding it out to Professor McGonagall.

"No, Mr. Potter. It's yours now. And I expect you to pass it on when you find a suitable candidate."

"But - "

"Must I threaten you with detention?"

Harry shut her mouth. "Thanks," she muttered, both flustered and pleased.

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to say something else, but just then her fireplace flamed green and a letter zoomed out. She grabbed it from the air with surprising ease and opened it one-handed. As she read it, her face paled and she put her teacup down. "Thank you for coming to tea," she snapped out. "I'll see you in class. Congratulations on your win." Harry could see that she had been excused, and hurried from the room.

* * *

Harry found out what had happened on Monday morning at breakfast, along with the rest of school. Dumbledore's grand seat was empty - as it had been all weekend - and both Professor Snape's and Madam Pomfrey were nowhere in sight. Professor McGonagall stood, drawing the attention of the study body.

"Attention, please!" she called out unnecessarily. What little chatter present died away. "Headmaster Dumbledore has come down with a nasty cold, and will not be present for a few more days. Any concerns that may have been addressed to him can be brought to me, or to your head of house." She sat down, and the hall erupted in whispers and murmurs. The students couldn't talk for long, however, as the bell for class rang. Accompanied by Neville and Hermione, Harry made her way from the hall. Just before she stepped from the door, a hand shoved a crumpled up piece of parchment into her hand. She had a glimpse of red hair before the crowd shunted her along.

In Charms, Harry opened the note. Fred's familiar, surprisingly neat handwriting met her eyes.

_**Harry - Get books on Basic Alchemy. Meet us in the Trophy Room at 11:00 tonight after practice. Don't get caught. - Gred**_

When she left Charms, the note fell from her bag onto the floor beneath her desk, unnoticed until two periods later when the first year Ravenclaws and Slytherins filed in.

* * *

Harry went through the rest of the day worrying about how she was going to get away from Hermione and Neville. The two of them had hardly left her side since Halloween - Hermione out of gratitude for someone to be her friend, and Neville because Harry was one of the few who didn't write him off as part of the furniture. In the end, Harry simply gave up and brought them with her. She had tried to shake them off after showering to get the mud from practice off, but neither would leave. Hermione spent the entire trip from the common room hissing in her ear about breaking the rules, and Neville jumped at every shadow.

"Will you calm down?" Harry finally whispered between clenched teeth. "And Hermione, I _know_ I'm breaking rules. You didn't have to come, and you're welcome to go back now." Hermione closed her mouth and looked put-out that Harry had snapped at her, while Neville seemed to draw strength from her words.

They had only gone a few more yards when Hermione whispered quietly to her, "Why are we sneaking into the library?"

"I need to get books for someone. Really, if you keep talking someone's going to hear us." Hermione gave a short _hmph_ but didn't speak for the rest of the journey to the library.

As it turned out, Harry was very glad Hermione and Neville had come with her. Hermione knew the library better than even Harry, and Neville, as the largest of the three of them, could carry more books. They left the library with arms full, fifteen books in total. Hermione was muttering to herself nonstop, whimpering at the knowledge that she had just broken her first school rules, and effectively stolen books in the process, even if they were going to be returned in a few weeks at most.

"Why aren't we going back to Gryffindor Tower?" Hermione complained in a low whisper as they descended to the third floor instead of going back up to the seventh.

"Because they told me to meet them in the trophy room. Now be quiet. I thought I heard something." Obediently, Hermione stopped talking, although Neville had to stifle a swear-word when he stubbed his toe on one of the stone plinths that the suits of armor spread throughout the castle stood on.

The corridors seemed to stretch on longer than usual, and sounds were magnified ten-fold in the silence. Even their breathing seemed louder than normal. After what seemed like miles of abandoned, dark halls, they neared the Trophy Room door. Harry went in first, Neville and then Hermione creeping in after her.

"Hello?" she whispered. It echoed off the many glass cases full of trophies and medals dating back to the founder's era.

Two dark shapes emerged from behind the largest trophy case, which displayed all of the Quidditch trophies and plaques handed out through the years. Hermione let out a quiet squeak, and Neville nearly dropped the heavy books in his arms.

"What took so long?" one of the twins asked in a bored voice, not bothering to whisper.

"Shhh," Hermione cautioned. They chuckled in amusement at her blatant worry.

"We don't remember inviting them," George pointed out as Harry and her friends came closer.

"Sorry," she said. "I couldn't leave them, and they wouldn't let me go alone."

They shrugged in tandem. "You've got the books?" Harry shifted her stack of six in her arms. The books were heavy, and her arms were starting to go numb. Fred reached out and took them from her, while George relieved Hermione and Neville of theirs. George procured a bag from nowhere and opened it. Fred started shoving books in, and, to Harry's astonishment, the bag just kept swallowing them, all fifteen.

"Ooh, is that an Undetectable Extension Charm?" Hermione whispered eagerly, leaning forward to get a better look. "I've read all about those. Did you cast it yourself? What's the maximum load it can take? Is it Weightless as well?"

Her questioning was broken off when Harry slapped a hand over her mouth. "Did you hear that?" she asked in a whisper so quiet that the twins had to lean in even closer than they already were to hear.

"What?" Neville whispered back, glancing around nervously. He hadn't really wanted to come in the first place.

A quiet shuffling noise came from around the corner, and then they heard, quite clearly, Filch's croaky voice say, "Sniff around, my sweet. They're around here somewhere." The five Gryffindors stood petrified for a moment until Fred tugged on Harry's sleeve and dragged her towards the back of the room where it put out into a small passageway between the Charms corridor and the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Harry pulled Hermione along with her, while George slung the bag over his shoulder and grabbed Neville roughly by the collar of his pajama top. They crept as quietly as they could, while Filch spoke in crooning tones to his cat in the Trophy Room. They managed to make it halfway down the narrow corridor until Neville stumbled into a suit of armor and sent it crashing to the floor. Fred and George exchanged a single look, and said seriously, "Time to go!" They sprinted down the corridor, Fred still dragging Harry behind him. She had let go of Hermione, who grabbed hold of Neville's hand. George led the way, Fred and Harry close on his heels. Hermione and Neville brought up the rear, casting panicked glances behind them every few feet. They pelted through the halls for what felt like miles, skidding around corners and narrowly dodging statues, yanking open doors and trying to close them softly behind them. Finally, they reached a door that would not open.

"Oh no!" Neville moaned, staring wide-eyed behind them. The scuffing noise of a familiar pair of shoes brought all of their eyes to the door at the end of the unlit corridor. Filch must have taken a short-cut they didn't know about, because he was just around the corner. Harry pushed Fred out of the way and pulled furiously on the door handle. They were at a dead-end, with nowhere else to go.

"Move," Hermione snapped, shoving herself to the front of the group. She pulled her wand out and tapped the doorknob. "Alohomora." With a click, the mechanism unlocked. "Here," she said, pulling the door open. They filed inside, Hermione closing the door behind her. She and Neville slumped against it, their breaths rushing out in a relieved sigh. Harry pressed her ear to the door, listening through the thick wood. She could just barely hear Filch's lantern clanking before it faded away, and his voice croaked out, "Not down here, my sweet," to Mrs. Norris.

Harry sighed in relief as she heard him leaving the corridor. "He's left," she informed the others. They didn't respond. "Guys?" She turned around. All of them, even Fred and George, were staring in horror at something behind them, and Hermione's mouth was opening and closing soundlessly in her terror. A low growling sound reached her ears, and she too stared back into the darkness. Three sets of glowing eyes stared back at them, and a large three-headed dog stepped into the light seeping under the crack between the bottom of the door and the stone floor. It's paws were half as large as the broom shed on the Quidditch pitch where the shoddy school brooms were stored, and its heads were each as large as her bathroom at home. Long strands of drool hung from each of its large mouths, which were filled with teeth the size of her forearm.

"Dog!" she whimpered, eyes wide. She fumbled behind her and managed to get the door open, falling out in her haste to escape the clearly hungry dog. The other four spilled out after her, Fred and George locking the door magically behind them. They didn't speak all the way back to the common room, where a very disapproving Fat Lady let them in, glaring especially at Hermione, to her eyes the only girl of the bunch.

They clambered up, Fred giving Harry an unnecessary boost in his haste to get out of the hall. She didn't even bother glaring at him, her mind was so busy spinning a thousand different directions. As a group, they collapsed onto the couches and armchairs nearest the dying fire. Neville was as white as milk, and Fred and George where holding each other's hand where they sat side by side. Harry had flopped down on the largest armchair, which really was more like a small couch. It was George who finally voiced what Harry was thinking.

"What the bloody hell are they doing keeping a great dog like that in a school full of children?" Fred nodded his agreement, his freckles standing out on his pale face even in the light of the fire.

"I dunno," Harry said, staring at the yellow and orange flames as they flickered weakly.

"Dumbledore's always been unusual. Even my Gran says so," Neville offered timidly. "Maybe it's just - "

"Didn't any of you look at it's feet?" Hermione asked exasperatedly, cutting across Neville.

"Yeah," Harry said. "They were huge."

"I was a bit more concerned with it heads," George said crossly. Fred had finally let go of his hand.

"It was standing on a _trap door_!" Hermione said, like it meant something special. When she received blank looks from everyone, including Harry, who had no idea what she was going on about, she rolled her eyes. "It's _guarding_ something, isn't it obvious?"

"Oh, yes," Fred said sarcastically. "A trap door - there must be something hidden underneath."

Hermione glared at him, but Harry spoke up first. "She's right, you know. The chances of it just being - I don't know, a storage room - just aren't that good. Why else wouldn't Dumbledore want us down there?"

"But what could it be? What could be so important that Dumbledore's hiding it at _Hogwarts_?"

"Well, it's just as safe as Gringotts, so that's a plus," George said.

"Didn't Hagrid say that to that kid in Gringotts when we were there?"

"Yeah." George frowned. "He had a letter for the goblin, too. Remember - it was as we were sneaking away from Mum. Of course," he added with a smirk, "Hagrid's whisper is about as quiet as his laugh. _You-know-what in vault you-know-which_. He must have picked whatever it was up that day."

Harry frowned. "So Hagrid got something for Dumbledore, who hid it under the school and set a vicious three-headed dog to guarding it?" She wished Alex was here - he always knew what to do when there was a mystery to be solved, most likely from all of the cheap mystery novels he'd read over the years.

"Yeah, that about sums it up." George looked both excited and bored at the same time.

"Wonder what could be that important, though," Fred said as he slouched back into the soft sofa.

"Honestly," Harry said, "I couldn't care less at the moment. I've had enough excitement for one night. And we've got classes tomorrow."

"But - !" Fred looked like she'd just told him Christmas was canceled. "Don't you want to know what's been hidden down there?"

"Of course I do," Harry said, standing up with a yawn. "Just not right now."

Hermione stood up as well. "Harry's right," she said, throwing Fred and George dirty looks. Apparently, she had decided to blame them for the entire incident. "We should all get to bed before someone else dreams up another scheme to get us killed, or worse, expelled." Fred and George snorted in laughter as Hermione stalked over to the stairs and vanished from view.

"…or worse, expelled," Fred mimicked in a fake-soprano. Against her better judgment, she snickered. Even Neville let out a half-hearted grin. Luckily, Hermione couldn't hear.

"C'mon, let's get to bed," Harry said. The other three got up and followed her up the stairs. She and Neville left at the fifth room up, while the twins climbed all the way up to the seventh. The only room above theirs, in fact, was the one that, at the moment, was empty because the Head Boy was a Ravenclaw.

"Night!" Harry called up after the twins as they retreated up the stairs, still snickering over Hermione's rather backwards sentiments.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione refused to talk to Harry, conversing solely with Neville, who she didn't blame for their near-death (and near-expulsion) experience the night before. Fred and George were treating the entire thing as a joke, which only exasperated Hermione even more. It took until Herbology, where she, Neville, and Hermione were trimming a Flaming Rosebush together, for Hermione to finally speak to her, albeit stiffly and only about passing the clippings bucket.

That evening after Quidditch practice, Harry, Hermione and Neville sat down together at one of the few empty tables left in the common room and whispered about what the dog had been doing inside Hogwarts over their half-completed Herbology homework.

"The dog is guarding something," Hermione hissed, labeling the stamen with an angry flourish.

"Yes, we've agreed on that. But _what_?" Harry asked. She lay down her quill so as not to mess up her sketch. She'd never been talented at art, and it would take much too long to re-draw it so it was better not to risk a blot. Neville shrugged and continued on his drawing - if possible, he was even worse than Harry, but he at least had passion on his side, and a nearly perfect memory for how the plants fit together.

"Do you think the teachers know?" Hermione asked, tapping her quill on the table until Harry slammed her hand down on it when the constant noise became too irritating. Hermione huffily pulled her quill away and straightened the vanes as Harry began to speak.

"Of course they know. They're teachers." Harry knew her voice was steady and full of conviction, but she herself wasn't so sure that she was right. She still remembered Snape's torn-up leg on Halloween night. And a mountain troll, known for their stupidity and brutishness, would never have been able to get into Hogwarts on its own. Quite obviously, at least two of the teachers knew about the dog, and Professor McGonagall most definitely would have been informed. "But _what_ is it guarding?" She sighed and turned back to her drawing. The discussion was dropped when Ron, Seamus, and Dean came over and took the last three seats at the table, panicking over the History of Magic essay due the next day.

* * *

Over the next week and a half, until the start of December, the matter of the three-headed dog was largely forgotten. Wood hadn't slacked off his scheduled practices even though Gryffindor didn't play again until mid-February, and all of the professors had picked up the pace of instruction. Harry had decided not to tell Alex what had happened, and instead had been diligently working with _Transfiguration Lessons for the Newfound Prodigy _in her sparse free-time, occasionally lingering after Transfiguration to get tips or have Professor McGonagall clarify difficult or unclear passages. Whenever she was alone with her Transfiguration professor, it was easy to see that the Scotts-woman was stressed and very worried about something, even though Professor Dumbledore had begun to show up at meals the Thursday after McGonagall's announcement.

For the most part, Fred and George left Harry alone. The books on basic alchemy she'd gotten them seemed to be keeping them occupied, so she hadn't had to make another trip to library for them. They only bothered her at Quidditch practice, asking odd questions about potions ingredients and generalized ephemeral transfiguration. Most days, Wood chased them off and yelled at them for distracting his Seeker. Fred and George would crack some joke or another and fly off after the Bludgers, but kept throwing increasingly confused glances at her. The looks made her nervous, but she had to trust that they wouldn't spill her secret to anyone.

On December ninth, Professor McGonagall came around with a parchment, asking everyone who wanted to stay at Hogwarts over break to sign. Harry put down her name right away, but both Hermione and Neville were traveling back home for the holidays. Hermione looked uncertain of her decision to go home, and when Harry asked, replied that she didn't want to leave the library, but Harry could tell she simply didn't like to leave her alone for the holiday season.

After the Hogwarts Express left on the evening of the twentieth, the entire school seemed empty. There were only five Gryffindors staying, including Harry, as well as nine Ravenclaws, eight Hufflepuffs, and eleven Slytherins. Draco Malfoy had made loud remarks about feeling sorry for all those who had to stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas season because their parents didn't like them, but Harry ignored him as she had been doing for the past three months. Frankly, he wasn't worth her time.

* * *

Harry woke up on December twenty-first to an oddly silent tower. The only other Gryffindors were the four Weasley's, whose parents and sister had gone to Romania to visit their brother Charlie. Fred and George hadn't been too put out about it, since they were still plotting something to do with alchemy, potions, and ephemeral transfiguration. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know what.

The first thing Harry did with an all-but-empty common room was claim the most comfortable chair next to the fire and start in on her homework. Her professors hadn't felt the need to be kind to their students just because it was the holidays.

It was peaceful; the Weasley's were sleeping in, and around ten o'clock a platter of holiday biscuits appeared on the table next to her, as well as a pitcher of milk and five glasses. Harry praised the perceptiveness of house-elves as she bit the head off a ginger-bread man.

Fred and George were the first down the staircase, yawning widely, dressed identically as they were wont to do on weekends when they didn't have to wear uniforms.

"How are you this fine morning?" George asked, beaming, as he sat down in the chair to her left and reached over to grab two biscuits.

Fred didn't give her a chance to answer, closing the two books she had open on her lap - _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ and _Magical Drafts and Potions_ - and stealing her ink-pot. "Aren't you bored with homework yet?" he asked, settling himself on the right arm of her chair.

"Don't you want to do something _fun_?" George inserted. Harry thought they sounded like they were trying to sell something.

"What do you want?" she asked tiredly, rolling up her nearly complete Potions essay (properties and uses of hellebore).

The twins adopted a wounded look. "How could he?"

"It's like he doesn't even _care _about us!"

They sighed. "Ah, well, I suppose we'll have to break rules by ourselves."

Against her better judgment, Harry leaned forward. "_Which_ rules are you breaking this time?"

"Only the one involving the words forbidden, out of bounds, and students."

Harry scowled. "I don't care what you have to say, I'm not going anywhere _near_ that dog."

"Oh, isn't he cute," Fred said with a smirk, ruffling a hand through Harry's hair and making it even messier. It had grown out a fair bit since September, and Harry knew she would need a haircut soon, or else risk looking too feminine. Maybe Hermione could help; she didn't trust Neville with sharp objects near her head, even if he was her friend.

"Quit it," she snapped, shoving his hand away.

"Now now, no need to be rude about it," George tsked.

"With you two I always need to be rude," Harry retorted. They chuckled.

"Maybe," Fred admitted. "But seriously, will you come with us?"

"If we're not going to get our heads bit off by that dog, where are we going?" Fred just tapped the cover of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_. Harry raised her eyebrows. "The Forest?"

"We need a few ingredients that have to be used when they're fresh," George whispered, casting a wary glance at the staircase as if expecting Percy the Prefect to come strutting down the stairs to put an end to their wrong-doing.

"And this involves me, how?"

"Well, you're the best at Potions," Fred said in what was obviously meant to be a flattering tone of voice.

"Yes, _much_ better than us two bumblers," George added, nodding in agreement.

"And since you're such an _expert_ brewer, we were wondering - hoping, really - if you would consent to - ah - "

"What I believe my dear brother is trying to say," George cut him off, "Is that such dabblers in the art of potions, like ourselves, have no business trying to brew such a complex potion." They looked down at her, identical brown eyes set identically in identical freckled faces.

"Please?"

Harry had to force herself not to look too amazed. She'd never heard either of the twins ask for something so politely, in their own round-about way. "Oh, I'm regretting it already," she said, closing her eyes and leaning back into the chair. Fred whooped. "Shh! Some people are still sleeping!"

"Oh, Ron? He sleeps too much. Sometimes I wonder if he's a sloth." Fred shrugged, but spoke in a quieter voice. "And Perce won't come down till noon, the poncy git."

"So, you'll help?" George asked with a shadow of a grin.

"Yes, yes. Let me go get my cloak. And a scarf. And gloves and a hat." Fred and George snickered.

"What?!" Harry asked indignantly as she gathered her homework supplies. "I get cold!"

Fred opened his mouth to say something, but George elbowed him in the side and shot a warning glare at him. "We'll get some jars, or something," Fred said, rubbing his side gingerly. Harry shook her head in exasperation as the twins jogged up the stairs, finished screwing the top on her inkwell and followed their path up to her dorm. Ron was still asleep - amazingly - and snoring softly. Moving quietly so as not to wake him, Harry placed her books on top of her bedside table. Her trunk was messier than it had been when she first packed, but she quickly found her winter gear since she often wore it down in Potions, where it was so cold you could see your breath even with the heat of the cauldron's fires, and out to the greenhouses for Herbology. After a moment of hesitation, she grabbed her monogrammed potions kit and stuffed it into her book bag.

Fred and George were waiting for her in the common room. "Come on," Fred said, grabbing her arm and dragging her towards the portrait hole. "Percy just got up and we improved his shower." Harry giggled at the thought of an irate, blue Percy. Fred and George had been eager to try their newest trick on someone, and it appeared that Percy had drawn the short straw. The blue would contrast rather well with his hair.

They didn't see anyone on the way down to the front doors, which wasn't surprising given that there were only thirty-three students plus staff in the entire castle. A small amount of chatter came from the Great Hall where some students were eating an early lunch.

Snow carpeted the lawns and piled up at the edges of the castle. The trio went single file, Harry sandwiched between the twins. She was glad of that, especially since she wouldn't have been able to break a path through the snow so quickly with her lesser height. She could see Hagrid's cabin at the edge of the forest, smoke spiraling up from the chimney.

"This way," Fred whispered back to her, leading away from the Hagrid's cabin towards the forest.

"Why are you whispering?" Harry whispered back. "No one can hear us out here."

"I happen to like whispering," Fred whispered indignantly.

"Shut it, you two," George hissed up at them. "We can whisper about whispering _later_. Right now we need to get in the forest to get those plants!"

Fred shot his brother a cocky grin. "Of course, brother mine." Harry, however, had lost track of their banter and was staring at the fringe of the forest with sinking heart.

"Um, guys?"

"What?!" they said together, turning on her with irritation at being interrupted. She nodded mutely at the forest and they immediately snapped to attention.

"Oh."

"Crud."

"That's an understatement."

A tall, broad man with wildly bushy hair, wearing a thick moleskin overcoat, stood in the shadows of the tall pines at the edge of the forest, watching them with an amused scowl.

"Er. Hi, Hagrid," Harry said when it became apparent Fred and George weren't going to be saying anything.

"Mornin' boys. Bit early fer yeh, isn' it?"

"Nah. Just enjoying the lovely weather." Fred gave Hagrid an innocent smile.

"O' course." Hagrid nodded sagely. Harry had the feeling that this scene had been played out several times already in the past two years. "Why don' yeh come and have a cuppa with me an' Fang."

"Fang?" Harry asked George from the corner of her mouth.

"His dog. Boarhound. Drools a lot. Smells bad, too."

"'E does not," Hagrid protested. George winked at Harry, and Hagrid realized what George had been doing. "Let's go get that tea now," Hagrid repeated. "Fang'll be righ' happy ter have company besides me. I'm not tha' grea' o' company in the winter - too much ter do with the trees an' all the snow an'…"

"Well, shit," George muttered as they followed along in the path a happily blathering Hagrid made through the snow - it was a lot easier than it had been when Fred had been in the lead, since Hagrid's path was at least three times as wide.

"Lady present," Fred reminded him.

"Shh!" Harry hissed. But Hagrid didn't appear to have heard. She reached back and whacked George's arm. He mouthed "sorry!" at her, and she nodded.

"..an' 'ere we are. After yeh." He held the door open to the wooden cabin. Harry followed Fred inside, looking around curiously. The large man lived in a single-room house, a bed the size of a boat shoved into one corner, a large hearth with a crackling fire taking up the greater part of one wall, and the rest of the house strewn with bits of plants, dishes, clothes, and even a few tattered books. "'ave a seat." Hagrid moved to the fireplace and hung a large teapot over the flames while Harry, Fred, and George sat themselves at the rough wooden table, which had bits of parchment and newspaper clippings on the top.

Fred slouched in his seat, while George fended off a slobbering Fang. Harry slung her bookbag over the top of the chair and proceeded to clear off a spot for the teapot. As she stacked the parchments according to size, a clipping from the Daily Prophet fell to the floor. She picked it up and started to put it on the pile, but the headline caught her eye.

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on August 10, widely believed to be the  
work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been  
taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied that same day. "But we're not  
telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for  
you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

The date on the clipping was August 17, only a week after Harry's visit to Diagon Alley. "Fred, George," she said, calling their attention. She pushed the clipping across the table at them. "Read this."

George stopped trying to get Fang to leave him alone and held the clipping so that Fred could read it at the same time.

"Don't you get it?" Harry hissed, sending a wary glance at Hagrid, who was humming loudly while getting mugs down from cabinets well out of Harry's reach. Fred dropped the clipping on top of the stack Harry had made. He shrugged. "You two said you saw Hagrid at Gringotts on the tenth, right? And this article," she tapped the paper in question, "Says that the vault was emptied earlier that same day. I'll bet _anything_ that whatever Hagrid took out then, is now hidden underneath the trapdoor."

"Maybe. We don't actually know if Hagrid took anything out. And why would Dumbledore trust Hagrid with something that important?"

That question went unanswered when Hagrid came to the table, four mugs of tea in hand. He placed one in front of each of them, the largest in the empty chair left for him. He put a platter of Rock Cakes, grey scone-like objects, on the table, but none of them took any. Harry had been meaning to, but George managed to grab her arm and gave her a warning head-shake. The tea was a little too strong, but nothing a cube of sugar couldn't fix.

Much later, after Hagrid had personally escorted them back to the Gryffindor Common Room, she asked George why.

"I chipped my tooth on one last year when he caught us trying to sneak into the forest. Again. Just," he added with a small grin, "Don't eat anything he makes unless you're dying of starvation and there's nothing else around." The rest of their involuntary visit with Hagrid passed easily, and they ended up staying with the friendly groundskeeper until well-past lunchtime.


	8. Chapter 8

After their spectacular failure at getting into the forest, Fred and George either gave up on their potion, or, more likely, found another source of ingredients, because they didn't bother Harry again. The next four days, as Christmas approached, Harry spent in a flurry of homework rivaled only by the falling snow outside. In between essays, she finished making or ordering her gifts. Professor McGonagall had been only too happy to help her Transfigure a few of the presents, going so far as to ask how much of the book she had gotten through. Every day she would play two or sometimes even three games of chess with Ron, depending on how long they lasted. The enmity between them had largely faded, and they had somehow mutually, and non-verbally, agreed to be simple acquaintances. Ron was millions of times better than her at chess, but by Christmas Eve, Harry felt she had improved from where she had been before. Even Alex wasn't as good as Ron, and he routinely thrashed her at home. Of course, that could be taken to mean that Harry was absolute rubbish at the game.

* * *

On Christmas morning, she was woken by Fred and George bursting into her room, shouting, "Presents! Presents! Come on, Potter, up!"

"Whassapinin?" Ron had also been awoken by his elder brothers.

"_Presents!_"

Fred and George had obviously already gone through theirs, and were wearing identical blue sweaters, one with a large yellow G, and the other with an F. She had a funny feeling that they had swapped, and Fred was wearing George's sweater while George was wearing Fred's, but couldn't be entirely sure. "Here, take this." George, or Fred wearing George's sweater, tossed a wrapped bundle to her.

She caught it and glanced over at the table clock she'd brought from home. Five o'clock. "Did you two even go to bed last night?" she asked as she carefully unwrapped the present. From his bed, a wide-awake Ron was ripping the paper off with abandon.

Fred and George took over Seamus' bed, between Harry's and Ron's, and watched as the two of them opened their gifts. The one George had tossed her was from her father. He'd sent a grey leather journal embossed with her initials, as well as three swan-feather quills, a bottle of expensive Italian ink, and a book titled _Charms and Transfiguration: Binding them Together_. The note explained that the journal was for taking notes in class, and that it was charmed to stay slim even though it had more than a hundred pages in it. It was a very practical gift, something her father liked to give her. It was also, she noted, _safe¸_ and something she had been expecting ever since she first told her father she was struggling with Charms. As she crawled to the end of her bed to get to the rest of her gifts, she noticed that Ron's pile was quite a bit larger than her own.

The rest of her gifts were much less expensive than her father's. Fred and George had banded together and bought her a packet of Dung-Bombs and a small container of her favorite candy, chocoballs. Hermione had sent her a thick almanac of magical creatures, an embroidered band of fabric marking the page dedicated to mountain trolls. Neville had given her a small potted bonsai with a label declaring it to be a miniature holly tree. Harry was touched by the thought Neville had put into his gift. Alex had, for lack of anything else, sent a package of Honeyduke's best chocolates. There was one last gift left. To Harry's surprise, it was from Remus. She set aside the thick envelope that came with it for later, and opened the box. A beautiful winter cloak, midnight blue with intricate embroidery done in silver thread around the hems, lined with silvery white mink fur, lay inside.

"Wow," she said, getting up and trying it on. The weight of the cloak was comforting, and she knew it was much better quality than the one she'd gotten for the school uniform.

"Who's that from?" Fred asked lazily, watching as she strode over to the mirror.

"It looks expensive." Ron had finished unwrapping his presents and was watching as well.

"Remus," Harry answered.

"Oh, yes, Remus. I've heard all about him, old chap," Fred said airily, waving his hand.

"Lovely fellow," George agreed.

Harry refrained from rolling her eyes. "He raised me and my brother for the first five years of our lives, after our mum died," she said quietly, returning to her bed and gathering up her gifts. She set them on her bedside table, positioning the bonsai so it received the most sun from the window, and joined Fred and George on Seamus' bed, the envelope clutched in her hands. She tucked her feet under her in an attempt to warm them up after stepping on the cold stone floor.

"So why haven't we heard of him before?" George asked, scooting over so Harry could sandwich herself between them.

"Dad kicked him out," she said with a shrug. "Fixed the wards and everything so none of his letters could get through either. I haven't heard from him in six years."

"What'd he do?" Ron asked, more perceptive to the unspoken meaning in Harry's words than she would have expected.

"Nothing," she spat out, then winced. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Ron said immediately, obviously regretting asking. "Thanks for the Chocolate Frogs, by the way." Harry nodded. She'd gotten each of her roommates a package of Chocolate Frogs. Neville, as one of her best friends, had also received a rare book titled _Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean_, and three beraht auralis seeds, notoriously difficult to grow. Harry doubted Professor Sprout even had any, but one thing her father wasn't sparse with was his distribution of money for gifts, and the Potter greenhouses, derelict as they were, still had a well-stocked supply of expensive plants and seeds.

She'd sent Hermione a bookstand that she'd designed herself so that it would hold a book open to a certain page, and would turn pages on command. Professor McGonagall had helped her Transfigure it from the legs of a broken chair so old that no one wanted to repair it, and had consulted Professor Flitwick for the charms necessary. Harry had chosen to use wood for the base material since she'd read in _Transfiguration Lessons for the Newfound Prodigy_ that using like materials for a transfiguration, or at the very least objects of similar shape and mass, made the actual morphing more successful and longer lasting. Although it had taken a few tries, and the transfiguration hadn't held for more than thirty seconds the first time because she'd made one too many flicks of her wand, Harry had finally gotten a product she thought Hermione would enjoy, and that Professor McGonagall assured her would last for at least fifty years, based on a very complex Arithmantical algorithm that Harry despaired of ever understanding.

Fred and George had each received ten galleons, and a note telling them, in no uncertain terms, to "just buy the flippin' ingredients" the next time they felt like wandering into the Forest. She'd also hidden their real gifts, new leather Beaters' gloves, in their Quidditch lockers. The next time they had practice, they'd find them. Her father had been sent a large bar of Honeyduke's Finest Dark Chocolate, his main indulgence besides the occasional shot of goblin-brewed rum, and a glass rose that she had Transfigured herself, even if Professor McGonagall had helped her quite a bit. Harry was very proud of the rose - the stem was green, the thorns sharp enough to pierce skin, and the petals delicate enough that the light filtered through in soft waves. After great deliberation, Harry had decided on pink for the bloom, which was only partially unfolded. Professor McGonagall had been full of praise for the Transfiguration work, and had even offered to start extra lessons at the beginning of her second year if she scored high enough on the end-of-term exams.

As thanks for all of the help Professor McGonagall had given her, Harry sent a box of chocolates, and, after great deliberation, a cat-nip mouse. Fred and George had told her during one of Wood's long-winded explanations at Quidditch practice that the Transfiguration professor was also a cat Animagus.

Harry had had the most difficulty finding a gift for Alex. In the end, she'd sent him the newest novel starring Auggie Anderson, legendary explorer of ancient ruins and part-time detective, and a large case of his favorite candy, sugar quills. She'd made sure to order the ones that came in different flavors, picking out his favorites like lemon, orange, mint, and, to her own disgust, pineapple. She added a few assorted quills for his friends, since she was fairly sure they didn't have sugar quills or Honeyduke's in Andorra.

Although she wanted to read the letter from Remus, it would have to wait. She didn't want to read it while others were watching her, since she didn't know how she would react. Fred and George, however, had different plans.

"Put it on!" They had dragged a maroon sweater with a large yellow R on it out from beneath a stack of gifts on Ron's bed and were shoving it in his arms.

"All right, all right," he said with a scowl, but put it on anyways.

"Should we get Perce?" George asked with a wicked grin.

"Most definitely."

"I'll just stay here for a moment," Harry said as Fred and George levered themselves off the bed and started to their elder brother's room. Ron gave Harry and the letter she held in her hands a look.

"I'll go with them," he said, and scurried after them, leaving Harry alone in the room. As the door closed behind him, she shoved her finger under the flap and ripped the envelope open. Remus's perfect penmanship met her eyes, familiar from her lessons all those years ago.

_******Dec. 23**  
Dearest Harry, _

_**I know it has been a long time since last we saw each other. I hope this gift will  
count as six years of birthdays and Christmas's made up for.**_

**Do not blame your father for exiling me and anything I sent from the manor. If  
he had not shunned me, I would have left myself. You and Alex are too precious  
to be in danger from the likes of me. One mistake could only lead to another, and  
this life is not for you.**

_**Since that day, I have thought of you almost constantly. I don't know if you were  
ever told this, but Sirius was only your godfather. I am Alex's. It was simpler not  
to tell the two of you, as you were too young. Now, you will hopefully understand  
that I do not love either one of you more than the other.**_

_**The Familia Chordus ceremony never truly took place, as you and Alex were born  
on the night of a full moon. Likewise, Alice Longbottom was never sworn in as your  
godmother, nor Tabitha Diggory as Alex's. I never knew Tabitha well, but she was  
Lily's mentor for her first year at Hogwarts, a Ravenclaw prefect if I remember  
correctly, and was a bridesmaid at your parents' wedding. She even has a son now,  
Cedric, who is a few years older than you and should be at Hogwarts.**_

_**I do not know where you are attending school, although I can only assume you are  
at Hogwarts with your brother. If I were to take a guess, I would say you were either  
Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, while your brother could be nothing but a lion.**_

_**The years have been hard. I know you are young, but you deserve nothing less than the  
truth. With Sirius gone, I had no friends, no one to turn to for help, when I left Potter Estate.  
I moved into the old cabin Sirius's great-uncle left him as a boy. It took a few years, but I  
found a steady job in the Muggle town of Louth, in Lincolnshire. If any other wizards live here,  
I am unaware of them. I work in a little bookshop, the only one in town, that specializes in rare  
tomes.**_

_**Just so you know, even if you decide never to speak to me again, I tried for years to get a letter  
to you. Owls simply came back with the letter still on their leg, and when I finally did connect my  
house to the Floo, the connection never went through. I tried, I swear it upon Lily's grave.**_

_**About your mother. If I know James, he will never recover from her death. She was his world, and  
he cannot get on with his life, no matter how much you and Alex mean to him. And never believe  
that he doesn't love you. He does, even if it pains him to show it. He is but a shell of who he used to  
be, and as such will refuse to speak of her to you in any length, so I will take the task up myself.**_

_**Lily was unfailingly kind, incredibly bright, loving, and, if possible, even more stubborn than your  
father ever was or could hope to be. She loved you from the moment she found out she was having  
twins, and deliberated over names for hours and hours. If you were a boy, your name would have  
been Connor Charlus Potter, after your father's father and your mother's dead brother. He died as an  
infant when she was only six. It will interest you to know that Alex would have been Elizabeth  
Rebecca Potter. I do not know the significance of those names, just that they stem from her childhood  
games with her sister, your aunt.**_

_**Your Aunt is a Muggle. Her name is Petunia Dursley now, as she has been married since a year before  
your parents' wedding. I believe she has a single son, a few months older than you and Alex. I do not  
know his name. All that I know about your aunt is that she and Lily were very close as girls, until she  
received her Hogwarts letter. After that, Lily refused to say much, only that Petunia disliked magic and  
estranged herself except for Christmas cards and birthday gifts. I saw your Aunt at Lily's funeral, however,  
and she was distraught, so it can be safely said that she still loved her. Do not be surprised if she does not  
know of you. James did not attend the funeral, and did not bring you with him. No one spoke to Petunia, so  
there is no way she could know that she had a niece and a nephew.**_

_**Lily was, in a word, amazing. She told me in our seventh year that she had figured out I was a werewolf by  
the end of first year, a whole six months before James and Sirius finally pieced together the clues. She never  
told a soul, and never treated me any different for it. Perhaps it was the Muggle upbringing, but she never  
succumbed to believing the stigma surrounding people like me. You, and in part Alex, have inherited her  
open-mindedness.**_

_**Six years gone is a long time, and I can only beg for your forgiveness, but know that I will always be here for  
you and Alex. The enclosed is for you; I have also sent a copy to Alex. Happy Christmas.**_

_**Love,  
****Remus**_

With shaking fingers, Harry overturned the envelope; a single photo dropped out. She and Alex, at maybe two or three years of age, snuggled together in a crib, faces turned towards each other and little chubby fists each grasping at the stuffed stag between them. That early in life, the only difference between the two of them was their hair color, Harry's black and Alex's brown. Even their haircuts and pajamas were the same.

Emotions raged through her: foremost were anger and disbelief, that Remus thought he could merely apologize and be back in her life. Six years, more than half her life, spent without the man! But in the back of her mind, she knew it wasn't his fault; her father had fixed the wards so nothing Remus sent could get through, not even a birthday card or Christmas gift. And not telling her that he was Alex's godfather - Harry knew that she would have understood perfectly well what that meant at the age of five.

She didn't know what to do. Alex, she knew, would forgive him quickly, as was his nature. But she was different; Harry knew how to hold grudges, Draco Malfoy being the prime example. Even so, she wished she had someone to talk to. Alex would just tell her to forgive him, and her father would forbid her from ever having contact with Remus ever again. Harry was at a loss.

Her musings of what to do were interrupted by the twin wearing the sweater with an F. "Breakfast should be ready by now," he said, then caught sight of her troubled face. "Er - Wait just a moment, George!" _So they are wearing their own sweaters_, Harry thought inanely.

Fred entered the room and sat next to Harry on Seamus's bed. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Harry just twitched the letter. The photograph fell to the bed, and Fred picked it up. "That's you and Alex?" he asked, inspecting the two young children. There wasn't much movement in it - occasionally, Alex would try and pull the stag closer to him but the picture-Harry wasn't letting him.

"Yeah. Remus sent it."

Fred handed the photo back to her, and she tucked it and the letter back into the envelope before throwing it to her own bed with a quick flick of the wrist, much like one would use to skip a stone over water.

"I don't know much about these situations," Fred started haltingly, and Harry could tell his was telling the truth. "My own family is - well - " he paused then soldiered on "- we haven't had so much drama in our lives. The worst that happens is us," he added with a grin. When Harry tried to get up, he pulled her back. "Listen, Harry," he said, "This Remus bloke, whoever he is, sounds like he really cares about you. He waited six years to be able to get in contact with you, and I'll bet this isn't the only photo of you and your brother that he has. He misses you, and I think you do too."

She tore herself away. "I'm fine. You said something about breakfast?"

"What - oh, yeah." Her fast change of topic had startled him. "I'll go tell the other's that you're just getting dressed."

* * *

Harry managed to put off thinking about Remus's letter for the rest of Christmas break. Christmas day itself was filled with Weasley cheer. Even Percy assented to a snow-ball fight that lasted well into the afternoon, although he left before they could cajole him into building a snow-fort with them. Harry, Ron, Fred, and George stayed out until just before dinner, and raced upstairs to the showers to get warm before sitting down to a sumptuous feast unrivaled by any Harry had seen before.

The days after Christmas were spent indoors. Clouds had rolled in and seemed to want to stay put. Snow fell steadily into the new year, while the twins whispered together in corners and sent multiple unreadable glances at Harry. She and Ron were getting on better than ever, especially now that Harry had her own set of chessmen, found in one of the crackers on during the Christmas feast. He still beat her, though, and the one time Percy had tried to help her it had been an absolute rout.

The second to last day of break, Ron seemed to realize that homework wouldn't do itself. For the next two days, he could be found at the same table in the common room, scribbling madly at essays and charts and diagrams for various classes. Harry only had to revise her own work, which took hardly any time at all, and then spent the rest of the time pondering what could possible be hidden under the trapdoor. She even went so far as to sneak back to the third-floor corridor and press her ear to the door, only to scurry away when fierce growling started up.

* * *

As soon as Hermione and Neville had their trunks back in their rooms, Harry dragged them over to a shadowed corner of the common room and told them her theory of the Gringotts break-in and the dog.

"So," Hermione said slowly, her eyebrows furrowed, "you think that whatever was in Gringotts, whatever Hagrid took out, is here? In Hogwarts?" She looked slightly skeptical.

Neville, on the other hand, agreed with Harry. "He's got a point," Neville told Hermione seriously. "My gran always said that the safest place for something, besides Gringotts, is Hogwarts."

Hermione still wasn't convinced. "Say you're right," she said. "What could be so precious that not even _Gringotts_ could keep it safe. And who would want something so bad as to risk getting caught. _A Comprehensive History of Gringotts_ said some really horrid things about what happens to people who get caught trying to steal from the goblins." Her mouth twisted in disgust. "Some of them were really cruel - on par with punishments the Greek gods thought up for those who ended up in Tartarus." Neville paled, and Harry couldn't help the way her gut clenched as she remembered the Greek Mythology section of the Potter library. Prometheus and the eagle; Tantalus and his everlasting, unquenchable yearnings; Sisyphus and his rock; Ixion and his burning wheel.

Harry quickly changed the subject, and listened as Hermione and Neville took turns describing their holiday adventures. Hermione had gone skiing in the Alps with her parents - something which amused Neville no end, picturing Muggles sliding about on slats of wood. Harry asked what it was like, and Hermione assured her that it was very similar to flying. Neville, on the other hand, had stayed at home for the holiday, and even rushed upstairs to bring down a pot of dirt, which he said contained the three seeds Harry had given him. The rest of the time until dinner was spent comparing their gifts; Hermione, in particular, was impressed with Harry's small haul, especially the beautiful cloak and _Charms and Transfiguration: Binding them Together_.

* * *

Going back to class was painful for everyone. Many of the students had only finished their homework the night before, and were sluggish in the halls, which led to back-ups on the stairways, and generally made everyone late to class, which in turn irritated the teachers. Even Professor Flitwick, generally agreed to be the most understanding of the professors, docked at least twenty points from his own house for tardiness.

In fact, the only good thing about returning to class was the large decrease in free time. Harry no longer had excess time to brood about what may or may not be under the trap door. Oliver Wood was becoming increasingly frantic about their upcoming Quidditch match in February, and had started scheduling practices at the same pace they had left off at - at least three times a week.

It was nearly the end of January before anything of interest happened, even though it came in the form of a letter from Hagrid inviting Fred, George, and Harry to tea. Hermione immediately begged to come along, especially because she'd never really met the man before. Neville agreed reluctantly, but brightened up when Harry pointed out that Hagrid often went into the Forbidden Forest, and would know many of the plants native to the area.

When the day came, however, Fred and George couldn't come. "Sorry," Fred said as he and George waylaid Harry, Hermione, and Neville on their way to History of Magic. "Got caught setting off a few dungbombs near Snape's classroom," he panted out before they raced off for whichever class they had next.

So it was only the first years who made their way through the thick snow to Hagrid's cabin. Harry knocked, and a volley of barks greeted them.

"Down, Fang, down," they could hear Hagrid commanding. Neville gulped.

"It's all right," Harry assured him. "The worst thing about him is his drool." Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"Where's th'twins?" Hagrid asked as he let them in to the warm, dry cabin.

"They've got detention," Harry said as she unwound her scarf from around her neck and pulled off her gloves to pet Fang, who was snuffling around her shoes with interest.

"Shoulda' known," Hagrid chuckled.

"I got the tea all ready, though, an' a few biscuits I made special." Tea was poured and Neville took a biscuit before Harry could warn him off. He made do, though, dipping it into his tea after the first, somewhat painful, bite.

"Hagrid," Harry said, "These are my best friends, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom."

"Nice ter meet yeh," Hagrid greeted them politely. "Longbottom, is it? I remember Profess'r Sprout sayin' somat abou' yeh. Good with plan's, I think she said. Righ' impressed with yer, she is." Neville flushed at the praise, and Harry jumped in.

"Yes, Neville the best in our year at Herbology. Better than some of the second years, even." Harry watched with amusement as Neville's ears turned bright red. Hermione was fighting hard to conceal a smirk. "And Hermione's the best at Charms," she added, concealing a smirk of her own as Hermione's already flushed cheeks darkened.

"Never did like Charms much meself," Hagrid said thoughtfully. "Always was better a' the more hands-on subjects. Care o' Magical Creatures was my favorite, before…," he trailed off.

"Before what?" Harry asked, knowing she was prying but pushing anyways.

"Never yeh min', now." Hagrid glanced nervously at a flowery pink umbrella leaning next to the door by a crossbow and a large, orange and brown scarf.

The silence in the cabin was broken only by the soft crackling of the fire and the sound of Fang whining next to Hagrid's knee. The giant man passed the dog a biscuit.

"Hagrid," Hermione asked, eying the dog curiously, "What kind of dog is Fang? I've never seen one so big."

"Oh. Er. Some type o' boarhound, I think. Must have sommat else in 'im, though, 'cause he's never been sick and eats all sorts of odd things." He chuckled fondly and patted the dog - who was gnawing on the biscuit - on his head. "Righ' good companion, though, and 'e can track real well too if he's a mind to. Bloody coward, though," he added as an afterthought.

"Do you know much about dogs?" Harry asked, getting an idea. Hagrid seemed to like large animals, and the largest animal Harry had ever seen was currently in the third-floor corridor up in the school.

"A fair bit," Hagrid said, the small amount of skin visible above his bushy beard and mustache coloring slightly. "I'm a dab 'and w'mos'ly any creature I come 'cross in th'forest. I've always wanted a dragon, though." Harry and Neville exchanged dumbfounded looks. Growing up as they did, they'd had a healthy fear of dragons, chimeras, and the other more dangerous magical creatures instilled since childhood, and to want one for a pet was tantamount to saying you liked to jump out of fifth-floor windows for fun.

Hermione, however, seemed to pick up immediately on what Harry was after. "I was reading a book over break," she started, carefully putting her teacup back on its saucer, "and I came across a Cerberus." Hagrid flinched, but only Harry saw it. "I never knew they were actually real, you know. I mean, I'd read all about them before I found out I was a witch in the Greek Mythology unit in primary school, but I'd never thought…" she trailed off, and Harry saw how well she was manipulating Hagrid. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about them, would you? I mean, it's just so _fascinating_." Harry stared at Hermione in shock; the other girl was lying better than a Slytherin!

Hagrid, who at first had looked guilty, was now beaming. "I know quite a bit abou' Cerberi," he said proudly. "Bough' one just last spring from a Greek chappie down in the Hog's Head. Leant 'er to Profess'r Dumbledore ter - " he cut off hurriedly. "I shouldn' have said tha'," he said nervously. "I should not 'ave said that."

"You mean you _own_ that monster!?" Neville asked, and Harry winced. Neville was without a doubt her best friend, but she would be the first to admit he could be slow on the uptake.

"What do yer know abou' Fluffy?" Hagrid asked in surprise.

"That _thing_ has a name?" Hermione asked incredulously. Hagrid's beetle-black eyes shot to her.

"Look, we accidentally had a run in with, er, Fluffy, a while back," Harry said, and then added, hoping to throw Hagrid off, "What's he guarding?"

"She," Hagrid corrected automatically. "I mean, nothin'. She ain't guardin' nothin'! An' if yeh know what's good fer yeh, yeh'll keep yer noses out of it! What Fluffly's guardin' is strictly between Profess'r Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel!"

Harry wanted to leap from her seat and shriek with joy, but contained it. Neville, however, wasn't quite as apt. "Who's Nicholas Flamel?"

Hagrid blanched. "No one," he growled. Then, "Look a'the time. I promised, er, Profess'r Sprout I'd get 'er some, er, Erfwin sprigs." He leapt to his feet, no mean task for a man his size, and pulled his large mole-skin coat on. "Come on, now, 'urry up. Can't be out too long in this cold."

Hagrid ushered the three of them out the door before Harry could even manage to put her gloves on. "'Ave a nice evenin'!" Hagrid called after them. "Come back any time fer tea!" And off he stomped into the forest, Fang on his heels looking mournfully back at the lit windows of the hut.

"Well," said Hermione, rubbing her hands together to try and keep them warm. Harry fastened her cloak - the one Remus had given her, since she'd finally decided to forgive him - and passed her scarf to Hermione, who accepted it with a grateful smile. "That was informative."

"D'you know who Nicholas Flamel is, then?" Harry asked. She had never even heard of the name.

To her surprise, Hermione frowned. "No," she admitted. "But the library will have something, I'm sure." She started off for the castle, intent on getting to the familiar stacks. Neville and Harry followed behind her.

"What are you frowning for?" Harry asked Neville, who was indeed frowning.

"Erfwin can only be harvested in daylight," he said. Harry automatically looked up. The sun, what little they could see, was just starting to sink below the horizon.

* * *

_Jan. 5_  
_Dear Alex, _

_Thank you for the Honeydukes - it was delicious, and my roommates all like it too. How was your Christmas? _  
_Satisfactory? Did you get anything from Remus? Did you write anything to him? Good luck in school!_

_Love,_  
_Harry_

* * *

**_Jan 13_**  
**_Harry - _**

**_My holidays were good. Christmas isn't such a big fuss over here, since some people don't even celebrate it. Like _**  
**_I said in August, we only get a few days off for Christmas, but I've discovered that we get lots of other days off for_**  
**_ different holidays. Like pretty soon we get two whole days off for Chinese New Year! And you're right - there are no_**  
**_ sugar quills here, so your gift was very appreciated. Simon had never even heard of them, if you can believe it. Dad _**  
**_got me a journal, some ink, and boring book on Transfiguration. Back to the Basics, or something like that. It'll be _**  
**_useful, I suppose._**

**_Yes, Remus sent me a gift. It's a really nice chess set - black and white marble! He taught me how to play, you know, _**  
**_back when he was still with us. Rémi is very jealous, since he has been playing chess since he was only three. We've had _**  
**_some very close matches in our free time, and so far he's always won._**

**_Don't worry about Remus - I only told him what we've been telling everyone else. I told him that I was at Hogwarts, in _**  
**_Gryffindor. Didn't say anything about my friends or Quidditch, though. He even wrote back, telling me about Mum and _**  
**_Dad when they were at school, and a bit about his new life in Louth. Did you know that Tabitha Diggory is my Godmother? _**  
**_I looked her up, and apparently she has a son only a few years older than us, but I couldn't find anything else out. The _**  
**_Library here, while well stocked, doesn't do much in the way of old Daily Prophet's. And I can't believe Mum would have _**  
**_named me Elizabeth! It's weird to think that might have ended up with you the boy and me the girl. But then wouldn't you _**  
**_be Alex and I be Harry? It's all very weird and confusing._**

**_Sorry for the rambling - it's nice to get all this off my chest since I can't exactly talk about it with anyone else. Good luck to _**  
**_you, too! And don't write for a while. My friends look at me weird whenever I say I'm writing to my brother._**

**_-Alex_**

**_P.S. Are you mad that Remus is my godfather? Please, don't be._**

* * *

_Jan. 30_  
_Dear Remus,_

_I'm sorry for the delay. I've been thinking._

_ I'll forgive you, but only so long as I can see you again. Maybe this summer? In Diagon Alley? I'm sure Alex will agree with me, and Dad will _  
_hardly notice we've gone since he's at work most of the time anyways. Why didn't you ever tell me Alex is your godson? I would have liked _  
_to know, even then. I would have understood._

_I hope your holidays weren't too bad, and I'm sorry I didn't think to get you anything. The cloak really is beautiful, and very warm. I wear it _  
_on weekends, since during school we're supposed to wear the standard uniform. I'm actually at Asclepius Academy, which is located in_  
_Andorra. My best subjects are Transfiguration and Potions since our Defensive Magic professor is dead boring and stutters, but I like _  
_Transfiguration the best since the Potions professor can be a bit rude. Thanks again!_

_Love,_  
_Harry_


	9. Chapter 9

The first week of February, Dumbledore fell sick again. All of the inhabitants of the castle walked around in hushed silence for three days until he came back to dinner one night, smiling yet oddly subdued. Professors McGonagall and Snape, both of whom had been on high alert during Dumbledore's illness and had had very short tempers, relaxed just the smallest amount. Harry fell back into the comforting schedule she had established at the beginning of September. The only difference was Hermione's helpful presence, even if she did spend most of her time trying to find out who Flamel was. As the days passed without success, she grew more and more frantic.

"I don't understand!" Hermione whispered across their usual library table to Harry the morning after Valentine's Day. "I can't find him anywhere! And I can't ask Madam Pince in case she tells Professor McGonagall or the Headmaster!" Harry, who barely had time to do homework now that the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff was only a week away, nodded and continued scribbling away about the Goblin Rebellion of 1312. It was only the two of them at their table, since Neville had finally been admitted into Greenhouse Three.

"Did you try the Recent History section?" Harry asked as she finished describing the tactic used to punch through the wizarding side of the war in the Battle of the Durnisia Mines.

"Yes!" Hermione whispered fervently. "I checked _A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_, _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_, _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_, _Important Modern Magical Discoveries_, _Modern Magical History_, and _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_. Not a single mention of Flamel!" Harry was amazed by Hermione's ability to remember long book titles, especially so many with such similar names.

"What about - " the bell rang, ending their free period.

"Oh no," Hermione moaned, gathering up a large stack of books on Transfiguration, which she had been using to help improve her wand-work before getting sidetracked by Flamel. "I've got to put all these back and we've got Herbology next!"

"Here," Harry said, quickly closing _A History of Magic_, and screwing the lid onto her ink bottle and putting both into her bag. "I'll help. It'll only take a minute." She took half of the books and shelved them, aware of Madam Pince's keen eye watching them from where the Transfiguration section met the Defense Section. Harry returned to their table faster than Hermione and busied herself rolling up her mostly-dry essay and cleaning her quill.

"Come on," Hermione said, grabbing Harry by the hand and pulling him out of the library and down the stairs. "We're going to be late!" True to Hermione's prediction, they were a few minutes late, but Professor Sprout forgave them when she saw how out of breath they were from running through the snow.

"Just try to be early next time, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger," she warned them with a kindly smile before addressing the class as a whole. "Please put on your dragon-hide gloves, and take off anything you don't want to get dirty. We're fertilizing the goldenglories today! The dragon dung is over there, near the pots!" Predictably, Neville was the first one to get there, already smudged with dirt but smiling in a pleased manner.

* * *

The days before the second Gryffindor Quidditch match of the season were just as intense as the first. Harry found that it was even more so for her, as no one outside of Gryffindor had known she was playing Seeker in November. In the halls, Slytherins would hiss disparaging remarks at her, and a few went so far as to try and sabotage her, failing miserably due to the twin's almost constant presence at her side at Wood's behest.

Saturday February 22 dawned cloudy and grey, but with no snow or rain imminent. Harry was already up and waiting in the common room for the rest of her teammates to come down, Nimbus 2000 leaning against her chair as she read more of _Transfiguration Lessons for the Newfound Prodigy_. After nearly four months, Harry was only a third of the way through it, and still had trouble understanding what it said at times. With a sigh, she closed the book and watched as the sky lightened. She would need to go talk to Professor McGonagall soon to clear up some of her problems.

Not long after she'd set her book aside, the other six members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team traipsed down the stairs, each of them clutching their brooms, which Oliver had told them to secure in their rooms to prevent any tampering. Personally, Harry thought he was paranoid because the Gryffindor locker room was charmed so that only Gryffindors could get through. _Although_, she thought as she stood and grabbed her broom and book, _Fred and George could probably find a way around the spells if they really wanted to_.

"Breakfast!" Oliver said, grabbing Ryan's arm to prevent him from sinking into the nearest chair. "Toast and eggs for everyone. No bacon - it's too heavy. And no kippers either," he added with a short glare at the twins, who smiled innocently at him. Harry was sure they'd ask for Canadian bacon just to irritate him.

"I don't like eggs," Harry said to the group as a whole as they exited the common room.

"I said no bacon!" Oliver shouted back at her before realizing what she had said. "Oh, er. Have a sausage instead," he said, distracted by Aiden nearly dropping his broom.

"What!?" Fred protested. "I want a sausage too!"

"Ah ah ah," George said, waving his finger chidingly, "You actually like eggs, so you can't have any."

"Can too."

"Nope!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Cut it out!" a nearby portrait growled. "We're trying to sleep up here!"

Snickering, the Gryffindor Quidditch Team trekked the rest of the way down to the Great Hall and sat down for a 'light' breakfast of eggs, toast, and, _only_ for the Seeker (as Oliver threatened multiple times) a single kipper.

By the time the rest of the school streamed into the Great Hall, decked out in red and gold or yellow and black, the Gryffindor Quidditch Team had finished eating.

"Let's go," Oliver said, prizing a fork from Zakir's fingers as he tried to get a sausage from the platter in front of him when he thought Oliver wasn't looking. Harry stood quickly, glad to escape. Her nerves had been mounting steadily for the past half-hour, not as great as they had been before her first match, but definitely there.

"Good luck, Harry!" she heard Hermione call out, and glanced back. She and Neville sat next to each other, waving encouragingly at her. Harry gave them a shaky smile and allowed the twins to bustle her out of the Great Hall and into the slush-covered grounds.

"Bit damp," Oliver said with a frown as they walked through a large mud-puddle. "Be sure to find a solid piece of ground to kick off on. And the sun shouldn't be coming out anytime soon, so we don't have to worry about that." Harry was a bit disappointed - sun would shine off the Snitch and make it easier to find. The rest of the walk to the changing room was marked only by Aiden cursing when he nearly slipped in a patch of icy mud, earning a reproachful, "Careful!" from Oliver.

Once in the locker room, they split up to go to their respective lockers. Harry, finally used to the sheer amount of male flesh exposed, didn't pay any mind as she stripped out of everything except her boxers and pulled on her Quidditch gear. The white trousers that clung to her lower legs but were loose around her thighs went on first, followed by the skin-tight white shirt they all wore under their jerseys and her light-weight Quidditch shoes. A pair of shin-guards were buckled on over the white pants. Her jersey, the one that used to be Sirius's, was pulled over her head. Like all the rest of the Gryffindor team jerseys, it was bright scarlet, with gold trim around the neck and hems of the three-quarter length sleeves that wouldn't get in the way of any passes. A gold lion's head was artfully drawn over the left breast, where a pocket would be on a Muggle suit. The top six inches of the jersey were split, with leather thongs that she made sure to tighten all the way to keep it from slipping over her head. The jersey was quite long, reaching to half-way down her thighs, with slits down the front and back to make sitting a broom easier. The waist had another leather thong, which tied on the right hip. Last, she jinxed her glasses to her ears, a handy spell that Oliver had shown her after her glasses had fallen off during their third practice, and pulled on the pair of black leather Seeker's gloves that Alex had sent her, along with a note saying that they were from their dad. Completely dressed, Harry shoved her regular clothes, along with _Transfiguration Lessons for the Newfound Prodigy_ into her locker and waited for the others to get dressed.

As Seeker, she wore less padding than the rest of the players in order to stay light and speedy. Keepers traditionally wore the most, with Beaters only the absence of shoulder-pads and padded-gloves behind them. The Chasers had shin-guards, elbow-guards, and wrist-strengtheners, a light load when compared to the amount of padding Oliver had to wear.

Fred and George were the last to finish since they had argued over whose trousers were whose before Harry pointed out that it didn't really matter.

"Right, now that we're all dressed," Oliver started with a quick glare at the twins, "just a few last-minute pointers. We're playing Hufflepuff."

"Oh, really?" George asked. "I thought we were smashing Slytherin again."

Fred opened his mouth to add on to his brother's comment but Oliver's increasingly irritated glare put him off. "Like I said, Hufflepuff. They've got almost an entire team of new players. The Keeper's a sixth year I've never heard of before, so either they're desperate or he's good enough to displace Harker. Don't use the Viper play unless it's absolutely necessary," he warned Aiden, Zakir, and Ryan. "We might need that against Ravenclaw. And where-ever possible, let Zakir take the shot since he's got the best aim of the three of you." The three Chasers nodded seriously and Oliver turned on the twins.

"Yes, we know," George said before Oliver could get a syllable out.

"Target the chasers - "

"Unless the Seeker's doing something - "

"And never hit a Bludger at the Keeper unless the Quaffle's in the zone!" they finished together.

"Yes, exactly!" Oliver exclaimed, pounding one heavily-padded fist into his other hand.

"And Harry," Oliver said, facing the last member of the team, "Try not to _swallow_ the Snitch this time." Harry blushed but grinned. At the match against Slytherin, Higgs had knocked her fist out of the way and the Snitch had literally flown into her mouth. Flint had been livid.

"Yes, Oliver," she said. "No Snitch-eating. Got it."

He looked over his team. "Aiden, tighten your jersey - it looks a bit loose. Fred, George," he snapped, "those pants are exactly the same so it doesn't fucking matter! Harry - " she quailed a bit under his gaze " - just catch the Snitch like you do in practice and we'll be fine."

"Of course we'll be fine," Fred said indignantly.

"We've got the best team at Hogwarts!" George finished, and Oliver finally seemed to relax.

"All right, all right," he said. "Let's go. We'll be called out any minute now." Each of them grabbed up their broomstick and followed Oliver out towards the pitch entrance door.

After a moment of silence, Fred whispered, "Hey, Harry, could you use ground beetle-eyes and honey as a substitute for flobberworm mucus?"

Harry was taken aback by the randomness question. "I - I suppose. But I'd really have to look it up and then I would suggest adding a pinch of dried nettles to - "

But the door was sliding up and it was time for the game to begin.

* * *

It had been three hours and Harry _still_ hadn't seen the Snitch. Her opponent, a third year named Cedric Diggory, was likewise stumped and both of them had taken to circling the pitch in figure-eight patterns a hundred yards up. She could feel him watching her, but couldn't figure out why.

Two-hundred feet below them, the Chasers and Beaters were still at it, but Harry could see in the way Fred and George were swinging their clubs that they were starting to tire. That, and the Bludgers they hit weren't striking their target half as often as they had at the beginning of the game. From the announcer's booth, stationed beside Professor McGonagall, Lee Jordan was giving a play-by-play of the game. " - and that's Elverdeen with the Quaffle, passes to Fossoway who shoots and…It's another great save by the Gryffindor Keeper! O'Connor in possession, ducks a Bludger from Gravin, tosses to Henry and back to O'Connor. _Nice_ play by Akram, and it's Gryffindor 210, Hufflepuff 180!"

Contrary to Wood's beliefs, the Hufflepuff team was no pushover. They had seen how the Gryffindor Team had played against Slytherin, and had trained accordingly. They were only lucky that they hadn't had to play yet - instead, Ravenclaw had faced Slytherin, which had ended in a tie-breaking penalty shot by one Samwell Quirke. Harry did a few loop-the-loops to let off some tension as, below, Hufflepuff Chaser Fossoway snuck one past Oliver.

As she hung upside down for a fraction of a second, movement down by the Hufflepuff hoops, where they met the slush-covered grass, caught her eye. Without pausing, she dove. Wind streaked through her hair, and behind her she could her Diggory's startled exclamation as he realized she had seen the Snitch. A well-aimed Bludger forced her to spin, but even so it grazed her knuckles as she rocketed downwards. Twenty yards from the Snitch, it seemed to realize that it had been spotted, and streaked off sideways, away from both Harry and Cedric, who, with his greater body mass, had been steadily creeping up on her as they dove.

Harry flattened herself to the handle of her Nimbus and pulled out of the dive, angling towards where she thought the Snitch was heading: the Professor's Tower, seats set aside specifically for any Professor's who might care to watch. Today, it was all of them except Dumbledore. Lee Jordan at least had the sense to duck as first Harry, and then Diggory, whooshed overhead. As she stretched out her hand to grab the madly fluttering Snitch, Harry heard Professor McGonagall's exclamation as her hat was knocked from her head by the upset airstreams. Harry's fingers closed around the Snitch, but she felt Diggory's rough fingertips scrabbling on the exposed skin of her wrist between her Seeker's gloves and her white shirt.

Moments later, the game was over, and Fred and George were setting off Filibuster Fireworks in the middle of the pitch while Professor McGonagall yelled at them from the stands, her recovered hat perched lopsidedly on her head. The rest of Harry's teammates were flying towards her, cheering. This second win put them first in the running for the Quidditch Cup. Harry was grinning so hard that she felt her face was going to split in half. She only half-noticed as Diggory called a "good game!" to her before flying off, a disappointed sort of grimace on his face, to meet up with the rest of his team. Her own team arrived seconds later.

"Great catch, Harry!" Aiden called as Zakir slugger her shoulder, nearly pushing her sideways off her broom. Oliver just smiled proudly, but Harry could already see plans of new plays ready to be born in his eyes and had to stifle a half-groan, half-laugh. She had found someone even more obsessed with Quidditch than she was.

"Oi!" It was Seamus, yelling at them from the stands. Unbeknownst to the delirious Quidditch team, they had drifted over to the Gryffindor stands. "Lee says party in an hour!" Harry waved her hand - Snitch still clutched tightly in her fist - at her roommate to let him know that she had heard, before leaving the three Chasers laughing at Oliver, who had been grabbed by the front his jersey by his girlfriend, Alicia Spinnet, a fourth-year with dark brown hair and friendly hazel eyes, and was being thoroughly snogged while still hovering on his broom, although a little wobbly as his attention wandered.

The party lasted well past dinner, which only a few students (namely Percy Weasley) had gone to, the rest preferring to stay in the boisterously loud common room even if, like Hermione, they were doing homework instead of playing card games, eating the plethora of candies and sweets the twins had somehow smuggled in, or, in the case of fifth-years and older, drinking spiked punch. Harry had suffered through an hour and a half of girls (mainly Lavender, Parvati, and Sophie) giggling and running their hands through her hair. Fred and George had sent several smirks her direction, and even had the gall to snap a photo of her, which Lavender and Parvati immediately left to beg a copy of. Not long after, Sophie left and Harry was able to join Hermione in a quieter corner of the common room.

"How can you read in all this noise?" Harry asked loudly. As if to underline her point, Fred or George, as Harry couldn't be sure from this distance, set of another round of Filibuster Fireworks and catcalled loudly when a surprised Oliver and Alicia fell out of their chair.

"I just concentrate," Hermione replied in a normal voice, so Harry had to lip-read. She wrinkled her nose when Harry came closer.

"Sorry," Harry said with a grimace. "Oliver wouldn't let us change. Something about boosting the mood or something." Glancing at the title of Hermione's book - _Charming Your Way Through House-Work_ - Harry asked, "What's that book for?" It didn't seem like a normal Hermione book.

"Etiquette and House-Hold Management," Hermione said dully. She finally looked up from her book. "You know, what girls take instead of flying."

"Oh." Harry was very glad to have escaped that fate. Hermione's book looked absolutely dreadful.

Hermione gave a loud sigh. "I think I'll go up to my room," she said. "I'm getting a headache." She stood and left, picking a path through a group of older girls - probably sixth years, Harry thought - playing Levitate-The-Ball, where they would try and catch a glass ball with the Levitation Charm when someone tossed it to them. If they missed, they would have to kiss the person who had tossed it last. With Hermione gone, Harry scanned the room.

Fred and George, as well as Lee, were in the center of a knot of first through third years, who were watching them juggle empty inkwells. _Without magic_. Even their younger brother Ron looked mildly impressed, even more so when Lee kept on tossing more items in for the twins to juggle. Oliver and Alicia had vanished, likely to an abandoned classroom, and a fair few of the seventh-years, identified by the large bags under their eyes as the N.E.W.T.'s came closer and closer, were just starting to abandon the party, study materials in arm. A second search of the room turned back the same results: Neville wasn't there.

Harry moved across the room towards Seamus, who had somehow acquired a cup of the spiked punch, and asked, "Have you seen Neville?"

"He'sh on tha sheiling," he slurred, and Harry grimaced. Her roommate had obviously had more than one cup of punch, and would likely be feeling it in the morning.

"Thanks," she said, and climbed the stairs to her room, ducking the inkwell one of the twins sent her way. It shattered against the wall, narrowly missing the tapestry of a knight praying in the woods, who made a rude gesture at the twins. The dorm was empty, so Harry could only assume that Neville had, once again, disappeared to Greenhouse Three. He was trying to work his way into Greenhouses Four and Five, which were generally reserved only for N.E.W.T. students. Greenhouse Six was Professor Sprout's personal greenhouse, and was smaller than all the rest.

With a sigh, Harry grabbed a change of clothes from her trunk and headed towards the showers, intent on not smelling like a boy for any longer than she had to.

* * *

_**Feb. 3  
**__**Dear Harry,  
**__**I am most relieved to hear from you, and especially to know that you have forgiven me.  
I'm glad to hear of your successes in Transfiguration and Potions. You may not know, but  
Lily was the top of our class at brewing; even better, I believe, than a fellow student called  
Severus Snape. Professor Slughorn certainly liked her better! It seems that you have  
inherited skills from both your parents, since James was one of the best in our class at  
Transfiguration. Your brother, unfortunately, did not get that particular talent, but did get  
Lily's flair for Charms and James's innate ease in the air.**_

_**Of course I will meet you, wherever you like, but I must ask you to at least tell your father  
who you are meeting. I will not go behind James's back; I owe him that much at least. **_

_**I am glad that you are enjoying school. I must admit, I'd never heard of Asclepius Academy  
before and had to go look it up in the London Public Library. Their selection of Magical books is  
quite good, but not nearly as complete as the Hogwarts Library, I am sad to report. **_

_**As for why I never told you that I am Alex's godfather? Technically, I am not. I was never  
sworn in. It was only written down on parchment, and the ceremony was never completed.  
From the Ministry standpoint, I am merely the man who took care of you for the first years of  
your life; a nurse-maid, if you would. Lily and James were most stubborn that I accept the  
position, even though I didn't want to at first. Ministry laws forbid people with my condition from  
having guardianship of children not of their blood. In spirit, and most definitely in love, I am both  
your and Alex's godfather; after everything, it would be impossible not to be. Although legally  
Sirius is your godfather - sworn in and everything - you are as good as to me. I didn't tell you  
because, at the time, I felt it would only confuse you and Alex to tell you what my role in your  
life truly was. I had planned on telling you on your seventh birthday, but by then it wasn't possible. **_

_**Enjoy the snow while it lasts! Spring is coming early this year. I can smell it in the air.**_

_**Love,  
**__**Remus**_

_**P.S. Hearing from you is gift enough.**_

* * *

_Feb. 12  
__Dear Remus,_

_I finally have time to reply to your letter. The headmaster was sick with a cold again, and the teachers were  
all really tense. Thankfully, he's back to full health so there's quite a bit less stress in the air. As for spring coming  
early? Maybe in Britain. It's as cold as ever here in Andorra. Here, snow comes early and leaves late. But that just  
makes your gift all the more practical, so I don't' mind. If I must, I will tell Dad who we're going to meet, but he  
won't like it and will most likely try to stop us. Oh - I've got to go or risk being late for Charms. Thanks for the  
letter!_

_Love,  
__Harry_

* * *

_**Feb. 12  
**__**Dear Harry, **_

_**I know that I'm late with the gift, but I was caught up in work and without you and Alex here, **__**I find  
that days blur together. As always, never take it off, even to bathe. Good luck in classes.**_

_**Love,  
**__**Your Father**_

* * *

_Feb. 13  
__Dear Alex,_

_Has it been long enough yet? And too bad if it hasn't - you can just say your brother is an over-sentimental twit  
for all I care. Can you believe Dad was late with the gifts this year? It's hard to believe he could ever forget such  
an important ritual. Even worse, is that I haven't worn mine since you cut my hair - after all, boys don't wear  
barrettes. Luckily, he sent a pendant this year. It's a rune. I looked it up in the library and it's the Gaelic rune  
meaning 'strength' combined with the Gaelic rune for 'protection'. I wonder where it takes me to. Remember how  
we wanted to try them out but Remus stopped us just before? I don't think he ever told Dad, which is probably a  
good thing. I've switched the chain. It was silver, but I stowed it in my box of old gifts and found a leather thong  
instead. I think it's more boyish than a silver chain._

_In any case, I just wanted to update you on happenings at Hogwarts. Dumbledore caught a cold again and was in  
the Hospital Wing for three days. I almost slipped up in my letter to Remus, but didn't write his name, so Remus  
thinks that Headmaster de Calderon was sick for a few days. I didn't tell him anything else, just that it's still  
snowing at Asclepius. I hope it actually is, since I really have no idea what the weather's like there, except from  
what you said about its being cold all the time. Got to go - Oliver is calling for practice!_

_Love,  
__Harry_

* * *

_**Feb. 16  
**__**Harry -**_

_**I told my friends that you're overly-sentimental. They think I'm lying since I also told them about you and  
your flying stunts, and they remember what I told them about the troll. I've also been writing Remus, but  
probably not as much as you. He knows the names of your Quidditch teammates, and your friends Neville  
and Hermione. I've kept mum about the twins, though, and most likely will since they're not even our  
age. And it is still snowing here. I can't give out too many details, but we're at high enough altitude that  
the snow isn't expected to melt until April! **_

_**Dad sent me the yearly gift - a ring, this time, but gold instead of silver like your necklace. It's in the shape  
of a lion, which has got all my friends confused since they think he should have sent me an ouroboros or a  
dragon. He also sent a pair of Seeker's gloves, which I've passed on to you. **_

_**-Alex**_

_**P.S. I finally beat Rémi at chess!**_


	10. Chapter 10

**AN **Thanks to the reviewer by the name of QuidditchGirl for catching an error. I don't have a beta, so any politely phrased constructive criticism is always welcome. Cheers!

* * *

Potions was cancelled the week after Gryffindor's victory over Hufflepuff, since Snape had fallen ill with the same cold that had stricken Dumbledore earlier in the month. The news was cause for even more celebration in the Gryffindor common room, with the exceptions of Percy, who was studying furiously for his O.W.L.'s; Hermione, who claimed that missing a single class could irrevocably ruin a person's education; and Jessica Gillis, the lone seventh-year who had made it into Snape's N.E.W.T. level class. Fred and George took the opportunity to steal supplies from Snape's private store, dragging Harry along with them to act as lookout.

After Snape, it seemed like the cold was traveling around the staff. By the end of February, only a week after the Quidditch match, Professor's McGonagall, Flitwick, and Vector all had had to spend the three days it seemed to take to get over the cold in the Hospital Wing. When the students finally returned to Potions, Transfiguration, and Charms, all three professors were oddly subdued. Snape was nowhere near as vitriolic towards Harry or the rest of the Gryffindors, and Flitwick wasn't as cheerful as usual. Professor McGonagall had seemed the same, until she told Harry not to work ahead of the class. Only the week before, she had started giving Harry extra assignments from _Lessons for the Newfound Prodigy_.

* * *

Aside from the professors' unusual behavior, classes were normal for an entire week. Then, the rest of the teachers got sick at the same time, even Madam Pomfrey. All classes except for Transfiguration, Charms, History of Magic, and Arithmancy were canceled during the second week of March. Potions was cancelled since Snape was the only person in the castle qualified to care for them. Some of the sixth and seventh year students only had class twice a week if they were only taking one of the four subjects. The only non-students to escape the Three-Day Cold, as people had taken to calling it, were Filch and Hagrid. There had been a general outcry of irritation when students had found out the library would be closed until Madam Pince recovered, and Harry heard Professor Flitwick telling Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore that he'd thought his Ravenclaws were going to start a riot.

Madam Pince returned to the library four days after it had closed, looking paler than usual and missing her typical suspicious expression as she let in the waiting group of students, which was mainly comprised of Ravenclaws, fifth years, and seventh years. Harry, Neville, and Hermione had also agreed to return to the library since they'd already had their only class of the day, History of Magic.

"I hope Professor Sprout gets better soon," Neville confided in Harry as they took a table in between the Ancient History and Magical Creatures sections of the library. Their usual table between the Potions and Transfiguration sections had been claimed by two seventh-year Slytherins.

"She will," Hermione assured him as she placed a large stack of books on the table with a loud thump that shook dust from several of the tomes. "It only lasts three days." Harry frowned; something about Hermione's last statement didn't seem right and was niggling at her.

The reluctant thought was chased away when Neville said, a bit loudly, "Hey. Is that Hagrid?"

Harry turned her head so fast she thought she heard a creak. Sure enough, a large figure that could only be Hagrid was lurking in the Magical Creatures section.

"Hi, Hagrid," she called out after glancing in the direction of Madam Pince's desk. After a moment, the large man stepped out of the shadows, hands clasped behind his back.

"Hey there, you three. 'ow's it goin'. Yer not feelin' ill, are yeh?"

"No," Neville said.

"It's only the teachers that are getting sick, anyways," Harry pointed out. "What are you looking for in there."

"Oh. Er. Nothin'. Jus' lookin', is all. 'ave a nice rest o' the day." And he shuffled off, not turning his back until he was out of sight.

"He was hiding something," Hermione immediately burst out. "Do you think it has anything to do with," she paused and glanced around, "Flamel?" she mouthed.

Harry shook her head. "I doubt it, but it doesn't hurt to check." She stood and left the other two, hearing, as she walked away, Hermione pass a book to Neville and tell him to start searching. Harry browsed the books near where Neville had first seen Hagrid. They were all the same. She raced back to Neville and Hermione, glad that they were far enough away from Madam Pince that she couldn't hear, and also for the fact that the librarian was too subdued to actually patrol. "Dragons," Harry panted. "He was in the dragon section!"

"Why's that?" Hermione asked.

"There's no dragons in the Forbidden Forest, are there?" Neville asked, glancing worriedly out the window at the gloomy looking trees.

"Of course not," Harry reassured him. "There are very few wild dragons any more, and most of those are in rural Africa or the Asian Steppes."

"Harry's right," Hermione said. "I read all about dragons when I found out I was a witch since I couldn't believe they were actually, well, _real_. The last wild dragon in the United Kingdom was sent to the Dragon Sanctuary on the Hebrides in nineteen twenty-two."

"Oh." Neville relaxed into his chair and despondently turned a page of the book Hermione had given him, _The Brightest Minds of the Past Hundred Years_.

"The real question is," Hermione continued, "Is what he's doing reading about _dragons_."

"Well," Harry said, "He did say he liked dragons. Maybe he just wants to learn more."

Hermione gave her an incredulous look and pushed _Madness, Maladies, and Miracles_ towards her. "When have you _ever_ seen Hagrid in the library?" she asked. "I've certainly never seen him, and I'm in here much more than you or Neville."

Harry refrained from saying, _Are you sure you don't live in here?_, and settled for, "Maybe he's trying to find out how to get one for a pet."

Hermione snapped, "Don't joke about things like that," and buried her nose in _The Fifty Most Important Magical Discoveries of the Millenium_, effectively ending the conversation.

* * *

By the last week of March, the snow had melted and spring was well and truly on its way. Quidditch practice was no longer a test of how long it took for Harry's hands to freeze to her broom handle, and the lake started to see visitors on the weekends. None of the teachers were back to full health, and Snape, nearly a month after his illness, had yet to force Harry to start a potion over for no reason, something which made life immensely more bearable.

Oliver was a man possessed. With Slytherin's (admittedly narrow) loss to Hufflepuff, the only thing standing between the Gryffindor Quidditch Team and the Quidditch Cup was Ravenclaw. The only way Ravenclaw could win would be if they beat Hufflepuff by two hundred points, which everybody agreed would never happen, and even then they would need to beat Gryffindor in the final match by a margin of one-hundred and thirty. As a way to assure that Ravenclaw had no chance of winning, Oliver had taken to scheduling practice at five o'clock every morning, six days a week.

On the first Saturday of his new, grueling regime, Harry met Neville and Hermione below the stands where they had been watching practice since half-past nine. Hermione silently handed over a stack of buttered toast, which Harry gratefully wolfed down as they walked out of the pitch and onto the sloping lawns the surrounded Hogwarts.

"Thanks," she said as she came up for air. "We spent the first hour listening to him go on about Ravenclaw's seeker, the seventh-year Richard Pranfort, and didn't get on the field until seven thirty."

"That's awful," Hermione said. "You should talk to someone about making the practices at a more practical time."

"No!" Harry objected, accidentally spewing crumbs out of her mouth in her haste. "Oh, sorry Neville," she said after swallowing. She turned back to Hermione. "The practice time is fine! Honestly!" she added when Hermione pursed her lips in a very McGonagall fashion.

"We were just about to visit Hagrid," she said. "I want to know if we can find out anything about Flamel from him."

"Given up on the library?" Harry asked before she crunched into her third slice of toast.

"No," Hermione said immediately. Then, a few minutes later, "Maybe. But if we could just get into the Restricted Section, I know we could find something!" she protested.

Harry tried and failed to suppress a smile. Hermione's faith in the library was almost illogical. Harry knew very well that books didn't hold the answers to _everything_; the amount of time she had spent searching for information on Sirius Black, who she had then believed to be her godfather, had taught her that. Hermione simply hadn't discovered that yet.

By the time the trio of first years stood in front of Hagrid's door, Harry had finished the last piece of buttered toast. She wadded up the cloth napkin Hermione had brought it in and shoved it into her cloak pocket. Even though March was nearly over, with spring just around the corner, the days were still quite chilly. Hermione reached out and rapped smartly on the door with her knuckles.

Harry heard Hagrid's large footsteps approaching the door, but the giant man only opened the door a crack, exposing a single slice of his large, hairy face.

"Sorry, no time fer visitors today, come back later." The door closed in their faces.

"Well," Hermione huffed, slightly cross that her plan wasn't playing out. "That was rude." She knocked again, and Hagrid's footsteps, which had been retreating, paused, then came closer.

"Now really," he protested through the small crack in the door. "I don' 'ave time fer yeh!"

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Harry beat her to it. "It's about Fluffy." The reaction was immediate. Hagrid scowled, and his eyes flicked to something in his hut that only he could see, but he relented.

"All righ'," he said slowly, opening the door to let them in. "But on'y for a mo'. I don' 'ave much time fer yeh," he repeated.

Harry led the way into the cabin, and nearly wilted at the heat. Hagrid's cabin was sweltering, hotter than any summer's day Harry had experienced at home. She took off her cloak and swung it over the back of one of the four kitchen chairs before sitting down. Hermione and Neville followed her lead, taking off their cloaks before sitting. Hagrid, wearing an enormous flowery apron, sat in the last remaining chair. Unlike the other times they had visited, Hagrid didn't offer tea.

"Wha' about Fluffy?" he asked gruffly, tapping his thick fingers on the table-top in an erratic rhythm.

"Well, it's more about Flamel than it is Fluffy," Harry admitted, and Hagrid's face darkened.

"I tol' yeh ter keep out o' it!" In his anger, Hagrid was rather frightening.

"Look," Harry said, trying to diffuse some of Hagrid's irritation. "As soon as we find out who he is, we'll forget this whole thing ever happened. We just want to know!"

Those words did the trick, but not in the way Harry had imagined. Hagrid relaxed, all the anger draining from his face. "So yer haven't been able ter figure out who 'e is, have yeh? Good. Tha's how it should be. An' you three should keep yer noses ou' of it! It ain't no safe thing, messin' aroun' with Profess'r Dumbledore's business."

Harry slumped back into her chair. Now that her bid for information had failed, she could feel beads of sweat dripping down the back of her neck. "Hagrid, can we open a window or something?" Neville nodded in agreement, his face pink from the heat. Hermione's hair had frizzed out to several times its normal volume.

"Sorry," he said, "Can't. Yeh'll jus' have ter leave. It's plenty nice outside." But his eyes flicked over once more, and this time Harry could see what he was looking towards.

"Hagrid," she said, peering more closely at the fireplace, which had flames that reached nearly to the flue. "Is that…?"

Neville and Hermione had followed her line of sight, and Neville blurted out, "But that's illegal!"

Hermione, who's eyebrows had snapped together at Neville's outburst, said slowly, "Is that a _dragon_ egg?"

"No, o'course not!" Hagrid said loudly, standing up and moving in front of the fire to block their view.

"Yes," Harry said, also standing to peer around Hagrid's large girth. "It is. Alex went through an obsession with being a dragon keeper when he was eight. I learned more than I ever wanted to know about dragons. That," she declared, "Is a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare," she added for Hermione's benefit. Somehow, she doubted the bushy-haired bookworm had done _that _much research into dragons.

"Really?" Hermione asked, also standing to get a better look. "That's _fascinating_. Why is it in the fireplace? Won't it get cooked?"

"No, no, 'e's jus' fine in there," Hagrid said. "Nestin' mothers breathe fire on their eggs ter keep 'em warm. Can't really sit on 'em like chicken do, can they? Too big, yer see. So I jus' stuck 'im in the fire. I read all about it," he said. In his excitement over the dragon egg, Hagrid seemed to have forgotten Harry, Hermione, and Neville's purpose behind their visit. He crossed over to his bed and pulled a book titled _Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_ from under his pillow. Scanning the room once more, Harry saw a second book, _From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide_, leaning against a large wooden mug on the dresser. "See. Got 'em from the library. Madam Pince weren't too glad to let me 'ave 'em, though," he added with a small frown.

Harry let out a small snort. She couldn't imagine the strict librarian ever letting Hagrid, who always had some sort of scratch or scrape, and who she'd never once seen without some sort of stains on his hands, take out any of her precious books. The dragon egg, however, was very interesting, she had to admit.

"What are you going to do with it?" she asked Hagrid.

"Keep 'im," the big man answered. "Say's 'ere that when they're in captivitiy they'll be needin' chicken blood mixed wi' brandy, an' I got plenty o' that stocked up." He cast a tender glance at the large black egg in the flames.

"Hagrid," Hermione said timidly, "You do realize that you live in a _wooden_ house, don't you?"

"Wha'? O' course!" He waved a large meaty hand.

Harry shook her head at Hermione when the girl made to speak again. She could tell that it was pointless. Hagrid would be hatching that dragon, regardless of the chance that it might burn down his hut and everything in it.

"Well," she said loudly. "It was nice to visit you, Hagrid. You don't mind if we come and watch the hatching, do you?" When Hagrid looked like he was about to object, she added, "It's not every day that a chance to see a dragon hatching comes along."

Cottoning on, Hermione added, "It would be very educational," in a serious tone.

Even Neville put his two knuts in. "Y-yes. Gran always said a dragon hatching is one of the seven natural wonders of the wizarding world."

Hagrid beamed. "Well, if yeh put it like tha', I can' rightly say no." And, still smiling, he shooed the three out of his cabin, where they promptly drew in great breaths of cool air and threw their cloaks on.

"Is he _insane_?" Hermione hissed on their way back up to the castle, throwing a dirty look back at the smoke streaming up from Hagrid's chimney. "A _dragon_! In a school full of children! What could _possibly_ go wrong!?"

"I know," Harry said. "At this point, I'm wondering if Hagrid's even more off his rocker than Dumbledore." Hermione looked affronted at this blatant insult to the headmaster, but Neville nodded in agreement.

"At least Dumbledore's got common sense. He wouldn't try to hatch a dragon in a wooden hut."

"We should go to Professor McGonagall," Hermione said. "Tell her about the dragon."

"We can't," Harry said, pulling her two friends towards the lake where they could continue their conversation without much fear of being overheard. "As Neville said earlier, dragons are _illegal_. And the punishment for trading their eggs is at least five years in Azkaban." Neville shuddered, but Hermione only looked confused. "Wizarding prison for the United Kingdom and high security French and Spanish," Harry explained grimly before continuing. "Hagrid may have a dragon egg, but he doesn't deserve that time in Azkaban, and if we told McGonagall, she'd be bound by oath to report him. Same with Dumbledore."

"But - what can we do?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

"I don't know," Harry said, staring out at the lake. "For now - nothing. We've got a few months at the very least. I don't know how fast dragons grow, or even when his egg is going to hatch."

They sat in silence, staring out at the lake, where the Giant Squid was lazing about, poking its tentacles through the surface every so often. After half an hour, Hermione stood up. "I'm going to the library," she announced. Harry and Neville elected to stay at the lake, even though Harry was all too aware of the stack of homework she had yet to finish. The professors seemed to be giving even the first years outrageous amounts of homeworks, so much so that Harry barely had time to relax, and even Hermione had been having difficulty finishing her all of the essays on time. Fifteen minutes after Hermione departed, Harry sighed and clambered to her feet.

"C'mon, Neville," she said. "Let's get started on that essay for Binns. Fifteen inches on Hagar the Horrid." Neville groaned but stood up too, and together they made their way up to the Gryffindor Common Room, which was surprisingly crowded for such a wonderful day. Even Fred and George were there, bent over a stack of books.

Harry decided to join them and brought Neville with her. "Hello there young Harry," Fred greeted, pulling the books over to make a spot for her to work while George did the same for Neville.

"What are you two plotting now?" she asked as she uncapped her ink and took out _A History of Magic_.

"Oh, nothing much," George said, waving his hand dismissively.

"You'll find out with everyone else," Fred added with a wink. "Although maybe a little bit before."

Harry sighed. The twins were using her more and more to help set up pranks, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she was caught. Either way, she owed them for their continued silence. The twins went back to their project, and Harry concentrated on her essay.

* * *

The next morning at practice, Harry told Fred and George about Hagrid's dragon egg. "Wicked," they breathed together.

"He said he'd tell us when it's hatching so we can come to watch," Harry said. "I'll let you know when it's happening."

"Cool," George said, smiling excitedly. Before they could continue their conversation, Oliver finished describing a new tactic to them and told them to mount , Harry slung a leg over her Nimbus and flew right out of the changing room, much to Oliver's irritation and Fred and George's amusement.

The week passed quickly, although the lessons were becoming lack-luster. Even Transfiguration wasn't as interesting as usual, and Harry found herself drifting off into her own thoughts as Professor McGonagall lectured about mammal-to-object transfigurations, something Harry had been looking forward to, even if it was only mouse-to-matchbox. She hadn't dared go that far ahead of the class with just _Transfiguration Lessons for the Newfound Prodigy_ without Professor McGonagall's assistance, and the last time she had approached her, the transfiguration professor had looked at her oddly before saying she was too busy and reinforcing her stance of 'Don't work ahead of the class, Mr. Potter'.

* * *

March passed into April with only a few noticeable events. For one, Fred and George's birthday was marked with the ceiling in the Great Hall rearranging to form the words 'Happy Birthday to the Greatest Mischief Makers of All Time!' from clouds, revealing exactly what the twins had been working on. Tension grew between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw as their match approached, and Hagrid only came to meals once a week. The professors hadn't changed their behavior and were still rather gloomy. Even Neville was starting to notice, although Hermione didn't seem to care; as long as she was able to learn, the teachers were doing a good job. It was nearing the end of April, only a few days after Ravenclaw steamrolled Hufflepuff, putting them second for the Quidditch Cup, that Harry received a messy note at breakfast from an unobtrusive pale brown owl that lingered just long enough to make off with Harry's half-eaten slice of toast.

She read it twice, quickly. "It's from Hagrid," she whispered, passing the note over to Hermione, who in turn passed it to Neville. Both of them looked excited. When Neville passed it back to her, Harry Transfigured it into a paper dragon and floated it over to Fred. It knocked against the side of his head three times before he batted at it and realized what it was. He trapped it in his hands and looked down at it, then, grinning, passed it to George, who had a matching grin on his face only seconds later.

Harry was torn between wanting to skive off History of Magic, but Hermione downright refused to miss any class, even when Harry pointed out that Binns wouldn't notice. Harry gave in without much argument, and she and Neville sat through History of Magic, and, after that, Charms, Harry glancing out the window every three minutes trying to gauge how much time had passed by the position of the sun.

Finally, it was lunch hour, and Harry, Hermione, and Neville nearly ran down to the entrance hall and out the front doors, meeting up with Fred and George on the path that led to the greenhouses, where the twins had just come from Herbology.

"Hurry," Harry said. "We've only got this hour for lunch."

The twins grinned as the five of them ran down the lawns to Hagrid's hut, which had smoke spiraling up from its chimney. "Who needs History of Magic?" Fred said with a careless shrug.

"That's what I said!" Harry exclaimed while Hermione gave a half-hearted tsk. Harry could tell that the other girl was only pretending to be irritated, and that she really was interesting in the hatching dragon.

"Here," George said when they reached Hagrid's hut. All of the windows were closed, and the inside obscured from view with curtains. George reached out and pounded on the door.

"Jus' a mo'!" Harry heard Hagrid cry out from within. From the pumpkin patch behind the house, which at this point was more of a lettuce garden than anything else, they could hear Fang barking.

Hagrid opened the door, what little skin they could see flushed with heat and excitement. "Come on, don' dawdle," the giant urged, stepping back so the five of them could squeeze in. "Hold on, there's too many of yer." Hagrid did a quick count, then turned as stern a look Harry had ever seen on his face to her. "Why'd yer bring them?" he asked, locking the door and nodding towards Fred and George.

"I - erm - it was a secret for a secret!" Harry lied, although it wasn't completely false. "And plus, they're not going to tell. Half the things they get up to aren't half as bad as your dragon." Hagrid seemed to tune out at the words 'your dragon'.

"Fine. On yer own head be it."

The confrontation was over and Harry, Hermione, Neville, Fred, and George clustered around the table, where Hagrid had set the egg. The house was as hot as it had been last time, and soon they had divested themselves of their robes, and Fred and George had even undone the top three buttons on their shirts, which had made Hermione blush, even though it wasn't particularly noticeable as her face was already quite pink from the heat of the cabin.

"Charlie's told stories, of course," Fred said, leaning so close to the egg that Hagrid pulled him back, a protective scowl on his face.

"But I don't think even he's been so close to a hatching egg," George finished, inspecting the egg from further back.

"Nesting mothers aren't the friendliest of dragons," Fred added.

"So how'd you get the egg?" George asked.

Harry answered for Hagrid. "Won it in a pub."

George pulled a face. "Wonder how that bloke got it," he mused.

"Did yer see tha'?" Hagrid gasped.

"I did!" Hermione squealed. "The egg rocked!"

"'E's comin'!" Hagrid said gruffly.

The six of them stared avidly at the large black egg for the next five minutes. It was almost as boring as History of Magic, but the sense of expectation made it so Harry refused to look away in case she missed something. The egg shuddered, and rocked.

"There!" she and Hermione said at the same time. Neville took a step back from the table, while Fred and George watched, excitement written clearly on their faces.

A few seconds later, soft chipping sounds could be heard. Fred was the first to spot the crack. "Look, it's coming out!" he crowed, pointing at a hairline fracture between George and Harry, so fine that she had to move so that light hit it just right to be able to see it. The tapping continued for nearly a minute before it ended.

"Is somethin' wrong?" Hagrid asked, watching the egg worriedly. "It shoulda' come ou' by - "

His sentence was cut off by the egg exploding outwards, shards of the thick shell flying through the cabin. Harry only narrowly avoided a particularly jagged piece by diving into Hermione's side and knocking her to the floor.

"Sorry," she muttered, picking herself up and helping Hermione back to her feet.

"No, it's fine," Hermione said distractedly, brushing bits of dirt off her uniform and moving back to the table. Neville poked his head out from behind Hagrid's large easy chair, eyes wide.

"Wow," he said, staring at the table.

Harry turned to inspect the baby dragon. She decided it looked nothing like an adult dragon. It was scrawny, with most of its length made up by its long tail. All along its back, small nubs poked up where tall spikes would be once it grew older. Its eyes were bright orange, and its snout long, rather like a crocodiles. The leathery wings extending from either side were still wet from the embryonic fluid, and were surprisingly large for such a small creature. From snout to tail-tip, the dragon was the size of a large lizard.

"Ain' 'e beautiful?" Hagrid asked from somewhere above her. Harry snorted. The dragon was many things, but beautiful wasn't one of them.

"He's a bit - " Fred started.

" - well, _wrinkled_," George cut in. "Don't you think."

"All babies are wrinkled when they're born," Hermione said stiffly from where she was watching the dragon stretch its wings, eyes glued to the creature as if determined not to miss a single detail.

Harry felt Neville move to stand beside her, if slightly behind her, as she watched the dragon yawn, showing off large, black fangs. It sneezed, expelling a small gout of flame towards Hagrid's apron.

"Look!" the giant man exclaimed. "'E knows 'is mommy!"

Fred and George snickered, and Harry glanced over at Neville, who met her eyes with a bewildered look on his face.

"'Ello there, Norbert," Hagrid cooed. "I'm yer mommy." Norbert the baby dragon snapped at Hagrid's large, sausage-like fingers, earning a chuckle from the groundskeeper. "Little Norbert's hungry," he informed them proudly. "I've got some nice chick'n blood an' brandy all mixed up fer yeh." Hagrid reached into his apron pocket and pulled a dog bowl and a large flask of watery red liquid out. Neville turned green.

Harry didn't feel like watching either, and glanced over at the twins. Fred met her eyes and mouthed _Norbert?_ Harry shrugged, and mouthed back _It's Hagrid._ Fred grinned and winked.

"Can we go back?" Neville whispered, resolutely not watching as Norbert attacked the bowl of chicken blood and brandy.

"Sure," Harry whispered back. "Hermione looks like she's ready to leave, too." Hermione looked as if she were wishing she was in the library rather than watching a new-born dragon drink blood.

"Thanks for letting us watch, Hagrid," Harry said loudly. Hagrid didn't seem to notice, he was so besotted with Norbert. "We'll just let ourselves out, then," Harry tried again, earning a grunt and a wave from Hagrid, which she took for assent. "Come on," she said to her four friends. "Let's go grab something to eat."

Neville looked sick at the mention of food, but picked up his robes and book bag from where they'd dumped their belongings. He was the first out the door, followed by Fred and George, who hadn't bothered to rebutton their shirts. Harry was the last out, closing the door carefully behind her. They didn't need a baby dragon rampaging through the grounds.

"Well," Hermione said once they were a fair ways back towards the castle. "That was very educational - "

Fred and George drowned her out with noises of outrage. "Educational!?"

"That was a once in a lifetime happening!"

"Even Charlie - "

"_Charlie!_"

" - hasn't seen something like that!"

"And he _works_ with dragons!"

"Well," Hermione repeated, huffily this time. "It _was_ educational. You can't read about things like that in a book." An eerie silence followed her words while Harry, Fred, George, and Neville stopped walking and stared at her. Hermione realized they had stopped and turned around, blushing. "Well, you can't!"

"Did you hear that, Fred?" George said, turning to his twin.

"I know," Fred said, eyes wide.

"Hermione just admitted - "

" - that books aren't always right!"

Harry was having difficulty controlling her laughter, and Neville had lost his greenish tinge.

"I didn't say that!" Hermione protested as they all started walking again. "I just said - I only _meant_ that some things you have to see for yourself!"

"Of course, Hermione," George said, a fox-like grin on his face. "Whatever you say."

"You're impossible," Hermione muttered before stomping up the stairs and through the front doors. "I'll see you later, Harry, Neville!" she called as she walked right past the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. "I'm going to class!"

"Was it something I said?" George asked, grinning unrepentantly as the four of them found spots at the Gryffindor table, ignoring how the second years they sat by scooted away from them.

Fred poached the chicken sandwich Harry had just placed on her plate, forcing her to grab another. She bit into it before George could get the same idea.

"I think she's just flustered she admitted that books can't teach everything," Harry said quietly. "And you two shouldn't make fun of her for it."

Fred looked at her. "Alright," he said easily. "We won't."

George made a noise of agreement from around his mouthful of food.

Harry and Neville spent the rest of lunch keeping Fred and George from stealing food off their plates, and went up to the Common Room for their free period afterwards. Hermione was in class with the rest of the first year girls. Harry had never been so glad to have escaped; to her eyes, it was just extra homework - homework she didn't have time to do with all the Quidditch practices Wood was scheduling.

* * *

_April 25_  
_Dear Alex, _

_You won't believe it. Yesterday, Hagrid (that's the groundskeeper in case you forgot) sent us a note. _  
_We'd found out about a week and a half ago that he'd somehow managed to get a dragon egg! It _  
_hatched! Norwegian Ridgeback. I've never seen anything so interesting, although baby dragons really _  
_aren't very pretty. Neville said that his Gran says that a dragon hatching is one of the Seven Natural _  
_Wonders of the Wizarding World. I can't imagine why. Hagrid is absolutely besotted, and has named _  
_it Norbert._

_Wood is going insane, I think. You wouldn't believe how obsessed he is. I have Quidditch every morning _  
_at 5, so this summer I am going to sleep in every day. Nothing else really interesting has happened _  
_here lately. All of the teachers got sick at the beginning of February, but none of the students got it. _  
_Even Madam Pomfrey was ill. Have you heard from Remus lately?_

_Love,_  
_Harry_

* * *

**_April 27_**  
**_Harry - _**

**_You actually got to see a dragon hatch!? That's so cool! Now I really wish I could have gone to _**  
**_Hogwarts, too. Although you seem happier this way, so maybe it's not so bad. Plus, I wouldn't have _**  
**_met Rémi and Jonah and Simon if I had. And I'd have to deal with Snape, which sounds like an _**  
**_absolute nightmare. He deserved to get sick. I haven't heard from Remus either._**

**_The snow has finally melted, although it's still really cold. I'm thinking that's the main reason girls wear_**  
**_ trousers - they'd have blue legs all the time if they didn't. See you in a few months._**

**_- Alex_**

* * *

_April 29_  
_Dear Remus, _

_How are you? I haven't heard from you in a while. Or Dad, but he's always working. School has been _  
_interesting lately. If you promise not to tell, I'll tell you why this summer. But I can tell you that all of the _  
_teachers got sick at the beginning of February. It was very relaxing, actually, since we only had a few _  
_classes a week for two weeks there. And we didn't have potions for either of the weeks, since the _  
_matron got sick and the potions professor had to cover for her._

_Spring may have come early to Britain, but the snow finally melted up here at Asclepius last week. It's _  
_still cold enough to freeze my toes off, and I can only thank the founders of the school or whoever _  
_decided to make the girl's uniform the same as the boys. If they hadn't, I think I would have had to have _  
_my legs amputated from frostbite. Which is a bit Muggle and slightly exaggerated, but you get the point. _  
_Write back soon._

_Love,_  
_Harry_

* * *

**_May 2_**  
**_Dear Harry, _**

**_I am very sorry for such a long silence. I was actually out of country, acquiring rare books for the bookstore._**  
**_ It was quite interesting, actually, but the dearth of owls made it lonely. I spent most of the trip in Asia - mainly _**  
**_China and Japan - before heading across the Pacific to South America for some old Inca drawings. I don't _**  
**_know why the bookstore wants them - the chances of selling them are very slim. After that it was just a quick _**  
**_stop in Egypt for some manuscripts, although I ran into the Wizarding Market of Cairo for a couple of trinkets _**  
**_for Albus Dumbledore._**

**_I worked quite closely with Bill Weasley while in Africa. I am assuming he is the older brother of some of Alex's_**  
**_ friends, but I'll have to ask in my letter._**

**_Being in Egypt reminded me a bit of Lily. She always wanted to travel abroad, but she and James delayed their _**  
**_honeymoon - they were planning on hopping from Switzerland to Ethiopia to Thailand - because of the war. _**  
**_James, in particular, was looking forward to taking her to Thailand. Something about the color of her hair._**

**_You asked for more stories about your mum and dad, so I'll tell you about how Lily once stuck James to the _**  
**_ceiling of the common room. It happened in the beginning of sixth year, shortly after Lily ended her friendship _**  
**_with one of her oldest friends. James thought it was the perfect chance, and asked her to Hogsmeade. Apparently, _**  
**_it was one too many times, since Lily didn't even bother with her usual 'in your dreams' or 'never' or even the _**  
**_occasional 'go to hell'. She just whipped out her wand and with nary a sound James was stuck to the ceiling by _**  
**_the back of his robes. Only, they weren't exactly tied, so he just slipped out and fell. Sirius managed to make sure _**  
**_no one got hurt, but James landed on Lily. I don't think I've ever seen her so mad. She kneed him where it hurts _**  
**_and stormed up the girl's staircase, with James stammering apologies after her. Then he looks at us, looks at the _**  
**_rest of the people in the common room, and says, "Thanks for the advice, Padfoot." He didn't speak to Sirius for _**  
**_a week after that, and I think that was the last time he ever took dating advice from him._**

**_If you want to know anything specific, just ask._**

**_As always,_**  
**_Love,_**  
**_Remus_**


End file.
